


Come Together

by corvidae9



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: F/F, F/M, Gen, HBP/DH Noncompliant, M/M, crackful premises, favorite fun thing i've ever written, het/slash/fem, rampant bisexuality
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2007-02-21
Updated: 2007-04-12
Packaged: 2018-10-17 15:44:33
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 45,232
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10597146
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/corvidae9/pseuds/corvidae9
Summary: Remus and Tonkscause troublemischiefused to shagshould never be allowed to plothave a problemsolemnly swear they are up to no good.  Ron has issues withhis sisterhis best friendsa pointy Ferret that can't leave anything well enough alonelife that leave himfrustratedcrankyunpleasantin need ofalcohola good shagsomethingelusive that continues to escape him. Fortunately, things have a way of coming together conveniently intwentyforty-some thousand words or less. Would that real life were so accomodating. (RL/SS, GW/NT, RW/DM, HP/NL, RL/NT :D)





	1. Saturday

**Author's Note:**

> The awesome [](http://merrycontrary.livejournal.com/profile)[merrycontrary](http://merrycontrary.livejournal.com/) brainstormed the premise with me when I said I needed to come up with some sort of plotty thing for [](http://bronze-ribbons.livejournal.com/profile)[bronze_ribbons](http://bronze-ribbons.livejournal.com/)'s [](http://hpqfac.livejournal.com/profile)[hpqfac](http://hpqfac.livejournal.com/) request for Snupin, and somehow, we managed to turn it to both her and [](http://marginaliana.livejournal.com/profile)[marginaliana](http://marginaliana.livejournal.com/)'s likes. After that, I take full responsibility for this monster. Questions/comments/interpretive dance/caught typos, as always, welcome here. HBP/DH Noncompliant.

**Saturday**

"Remus. Wake up. We have to talk."

Certainly there had been a shift in his bed when Tonks had climbed up, and yes, she was kneeling next to him shaking him gently in her attempt to wake him, but Remus was tired. Damn it, Remus had spent the past twenty years or so tired and these days when he slept, he wanted to stay that way.

"Remus!" Tonks hissed again, from closer up. "Wake up, you old dog."

Remus grimaced in his sleep and slapped out at at her. "Be gone, witch. 'S not even light yet." He pulled the covers up over his shoulder and turned away from her, dropping right back over the edge of waking and not quite.

He was therefore not expecting for Tonks to take hold of his shoulder, roll him onto his back again and straddle his hips, lean in and use her index fingers to tug his lower eyelids open. But she did, and he sighed, shoving her hands off of his face as he blinked them open of his own accord.

"Can I help you?" He asked, tone clipped yet affectionate, his voice scratchy with sleep.

"Yes," said Tonks, sitting back on him seemingly oblivious of exactly _where_ she was placing her toned arse, and the fact that her thin knit sleep pants and tank did nothing to hide the body underneath or keep it from making contact with Remus even through the covers in wholly inappropriate ways.

Remus was just contemplating this as he tried not to shift under her, suddenly overwhelmed with the urge to just-- just cant his hips the slightest b--

"When was the last time we shagged?" Tonks asked, not accusingly-- more as though she was on some sort of fact-finding mission.

"Err--" Remus murmured, hips stilling. "I-- err. Recently?"

"I mean really _shagged_. Howling, scratching, breaking-household-objects shagged," she elaborated, her hands stationary on his stomach, still speaking as though she were asking about what he'd like for breakfast and whether he was planning to go out for a fly. "Because you're a fantastic mate, Remus, but I'll tell you, I think it's time we broke up."

Sighing heavily, Remus dropped his hands on her thighs and tilted his head. "I see how it is. The old man stops putting out and you kick him to the pavement? Some class, miss."

"Be quiet, you." Tonks snorted in the most unladylike of ways and bounced a little on him, making it clear that the placement of her hips was no accident, eliciting a strangled 'ngh' sound as she went on. " _Old man._ " She rolled her eyes and went on. "It's not that and you know it.

"The early move into separate bedrooms did give it away somewhat," Remus muttered dryly, unsurprised to find that this was not only true, but somewhat liberating. Still he harbored a great deal of affection for the wild creature sitting astride his hips, and he would be truly sorry to see her go. "So... when are you leaving?"

"Pfft! And give up this sweet little flat and the Wizarding world's best male flatmate?" Tonks laughed, though Remus could hear the note of uncertainty she was trying to cover up.

"...Err," Remus said, amused in his confusion, as was the usual when relating to Tonks. "Generally people who cohabitate tend to stop when they break off relations. I assumed--"

"See, that's the problem, there," said Tonks, leaning in and crossing her arms on his chest. "Because you and I are not breaking off relations. We're still mates, right? And we already live in separate rooms, right? So there's no need for anyone to go anywhere. We can still have nights in and I can still drag you out. It'll be brilliant."

"What you're proposing then," said Remus, arching an eyebrow at her, "is that we continue doing what we're doing, with the glaring exception that we stop shagging each other and shag other people instead. Stop me if I'm incorrect."

Tonks rolled her eyes skyward as if in deep thought. "Exactly. Only if you bring anyone particularly toothsome home, you'll have to consider sharing."

"What?!" Remus breathed a laugh, squeezing her flesh under his hands without a thought as to whether it was acceptable now that they weren't actually together.

"What what?!" snickered Tonks, wriggling purposefully. "I'd share! That's what mates are for!"

"Yes, well, you'll have to get off of me, else our newfound arrangement will have to go straight to hell," growled Remus, about through with her shifting and wiggling and _breathing_ from her perch if he wasn't going to be able to do something about it that involved nudity and unacceptable behavior between just-mates.

"Hrm," murmured Tonks. "Aren't we entitled to the 'earth-shaking good-bye shag'?"

"Tonks," said Remus in his best teaching voice as he tilted his chin to get a better look at her, "No one is _actually_ leaving.

"Right," she said, grin quirking up and turning mischievous; one that told Remus he really didn't have a choice. "I'm amending the agreement in favor of occasional comfort shags. Between friends, of course."

"Oh of course," said Remus, huffing a laugh as she shifted again and planted a nipping kiss to his throat, his hands straying up and around the curve of her arse. "Anything to comfort a friend, I suppose."

"And I do so need it," murmured Tonks against his skin, creeping downward and taking the covers with her. "I'm heartbroken, as you can see." She paused in her progress, her hand just short of his hip, looking up to turn huge, pleading eyes on him that were entirely feigned and yet no less effective. "Afterward, you'll have to take me out for ice cream, too."

"It's-- five am!" Remus managed, albeit a little shakily as she continued to move downward.

"Mmm," she purred unabashedly. "Ice cream for second breakfast."

###

Remus sat across from Tonks in front of a re-opened Fortescue's on Diagon Alley, the first customers of the day. He was eating the closest thing to breakfast on the menu - a belgian waffle topped with custard ice cream and strawberry-like goo, his eyes more often than not on Tonks as she happily wolfed a huge concoction of some kind, consisting of five different kinds of ice cream and uncounted different toppings, at least one of which seemed to be moving about the giant bowl on its own. A grin played on his lips as he considered the state of his life this Saturday morning-- he was eating ice cream for breakfast across the table from his best mate; he was well and thoroughly shagged with none of the juvenile visible marks or bruises that tended to accompany a howling-and-breaking-things shag, and none of the guilt that came from knowing that he wasn't really in love with the young thing responsible.

And he'd even bought the ice cream. Steady employment was a rather brilliant thing, he had to admit.

"Want?" she mumbled around a mouthful as she caught him watching, but he shook his head amused as he swallowed his own.

"No, thank you. It's just... I was thinking--"

"God, that we're fucking lucky as all hell?" Tonks said as she swallowed and sat back, crossing her legs at the ankle and gesturing with her spoon, her violet hair glinting in the sun. "'S what I was thinking. I mean, here're you and me and after all we've been through, we're just us again, right? And there's no chucking appliances, no tearful goodbyes, no mouse-brown hair; you're still expected at mum's for dinner tomorrow night and I can still borrow your books instead of burning them." Tonks sighed and sat forward again, digging the spoon into the bright pink side of the dwindling mountain of confection. "'S fucking brilliant."

Remus meant to answer, but she lowered her spoon and set her jaw, clearly not done. "Of course, this might mean my mother may start in on me about settling down again." Two fleshy bumps formed on opposite ends of her forehead and became tiny horns and she grinned wickedly. "No telling what sort of trouble a girl like me alone could get into. Again."

Bursting into laughter, Remus had to fight not to snort out his ice cream, coughing as he forced it down his throat. Tonks stood and slapped him on the back once, hard, but she was too amused to make the concern in her voice stick. "Alright? No use faking death now."

"Fine," Remus gasped, eyes watering and fighting off stray chuckles. "I'm fine, really."

"Wicked," she said as she flopped back into her seat and resumed work on her ice cream. After another minute, she grinned up at him again. "Oi. What'd you think of the counter girl?"

"Don't you start, too, _Nymphadora_ ," Remus said, eyes narrow as he brandished his spoon at her. "We've only just broken up. I'm in a delicate emotional state."

"What, _Remus John_?" she said, looking smug. "I'm just asking 'cos, see--" She pulled a scrap of parchment from the pocket of her loose cargo trousers and held it up, "--I got her Floo address and I managed to get her to come out with me tonight, so I'm thinking you may not want to come along, but I'm sure as hell going to try and bring her home. Figured I'd get your approval up front before 'accidentally' tumbling into the wrong room."

Remus was getting too old for all of this almost-snorting of frozen dairy product.

###

It had been a long year since Harry had finally kicked the shite out of You Know Who. Ron didn't care that the bastard had been dead for a year, he still refused to say, 'Voldemort'. Hell, he refused to think it if he could avoid it. He wasn't chicken about it-- oh _hell_ no he wasn't. He was cautious. And he sure as hell never joked about You Know Bloody Well Who coming back because he tended to be right about too many things that everyone else thought were outlandish until they happened. And, oh yeah-- no one thought he was stark raving then, did they?

Shite. If he'd said that out loud, someone might start. Maybe not though-- not here. He was still living at Grimmauld Place, but he didn't feel bad about it. As it stood, even with his job, Ron's options were Grimmauld with his best mates, the Burrow with his parents, or an attic flat on his own somewhere off of Knockturn. There was really no contest. Even with his little sister here more often than not, he'd rather buy groceries and supplies in exchange for living in the old house. His bedroom was down the hall from Harry's and across from Hermione's and in perfect condition... after they'd torn the house up top to bottom, re-fit, re-furnished and un-fidelius-charmed it.

In fact, it was sort of like living in a dorm-- they had a whole floor of guest rooms that regularly housed everyone from Neville to Luna to Ginny and any number of a cast of revolving Gryffindors, their significant others or temporary shags, and the occasional visitor from any of the other houses in their own guest room or sharing someone else's. Including the even more occasional Aurors-in-Training, adults or Slytherins.

Ron suppressed a growl under his breath at that, slumping further in the kitchen chair he sat in and defiantly crossing his boots on the one facing him. Damn it, he'd done a sizable chunk of the rebuilding, it was his house too... even if he felt terribly guilty about Harry having stuck both him and Hermione on the deed. Regardless-- it was done and that argument was past and he was damn well putting his feet up on the chair while he had his morning tea and read his paper and groused in his head about who visited and when. Even if he didn't really care and even sort of liked it as long as it wasn't--

"Weasel," sneered Malfoy as he descended the back stairs directly into the kitchen. Ron's hackles raised immediately, though his teacup wavered not in its path back to the saucer.

"Malfoy," grumbled Ron, turning the page of his paper and pointedly not peering at the Ferret's attractively tousled hair or his surprisingly cheerful expression. "Late night?"

"As always. Loads of interesting things to _get up_ to around here," Malfoy yawned theatrically and stretched, the barest sliver of pale skin showing between belt and fine-gauge jumper as he did.

Suddenly vindictive, Ron narrowed his eyes over his paper. "You know he'll just go out tonight and pick someone else up. You're not special."

Malfoy had the nerve to laugh. Not just the rude little snicker Ron had grown used to, but a full-throated laugh that filled the newly tiled kitchen and echoed off of the sparkling countertop. "Believe me when I say, Weasel, I could care less. You on the other hand--"

Once Ron stopped staring at the bob of his adam's apple, he realized that he was expected to answer, and as such, did so in the same derisive tone. "Me what? Does it look like I care what you do? Because truly, I don't."

Quirking an eyebrow, Malfoy made a show of adjusting the cuffs of his jumper. "I was referring to your best mate. But thank you for the information all the same."

Paranoid, Ron searched what he'd just said-- What information? What the hell? Sodding Slytherins. This was exactly why he hated having them around. "Whatever, Malfoy. Be about your business." God damn it. Ron turned the page harder than he meant to, hacked off that he seemed to have reached the end.

Harry's voice sounded on the stairs next, calling, "Draco, wait-- you forgot these."

"Thank you Weasel," smirked Malfoy in a way that made Ron want to slap the shite out of him. "I think I'll do that." He held a hand out for the books Harry was offering, turning to address him instead. "Thank you. I'll return them shortly."

"You'll have to," grinned Harry. "I'd say keep them but Hermione will have kittens if she finds them gone from the library and I tell her the condition's permanent."

Malfoy laughed again. Actually _laughed_ all over again though not nearly as loudly, the sincere amusement grating on Ron's nerves and making him twist the corner of the _Prophet_ around and around in his hand, nearly pulp by the time Harry noticed him.

"Oh, hey! Morning, Ron!" Harry added.

"Mrrmmph," Ron grunted noncommittally as he downed the rest of his tea.

"I'll have the pertinent pages copied and have the books back to you by Tuesday," agreed Malfoy, clearly addressing Harry. "I'd think you would know better than to say anything at all unless Granger mentions it first, but that would be using the 'reasonable man' standard and well..."

"Piss off, Malfoy," Harry said amiably (AMIABLY!), rolling his eyes as he shoved Malfoy backward toward the door. "Don't you have somewhere to be?"

Malfoy's eyes dragged across Ron so palpably, Ron felt violated. He shivered and held up his paper as a barrier between them, re-reading the schedule of events for the following weekend's dedication of the Second War memorial, holding his hand up in a wave that he hoped looked as sarcastic as he intended it to be. "Yeah, shame you have to go, but at least you know Harry will be watching you leave."

He heard Harry mutter to himself and could just barely see Malfoy opening the door to let himself out.

"Weasel. This has been as pleasant as ever," Malfoy said, and Ron was gratified to hear a touch of annoyance there, God, _finally_. "Be seeing you, Potter."

Ron dropped the paper just enough to see Harry cock his head and say, "Later, Malfoy," and shut the door. And then suddenly Harry was glaring at him, too.

"The hell was that about?" said Harry, looking confused and sort of annoyed.

"The Ferret," growled Ron as he stood, smacking his paper against the tabletop. "Just because you want to shag him doesn't mean I have like him."

"I've nev-- I don't ev-- I-- Arrgh," was the closest approximation to what Harry said next, one hand dragging through his hair. "What's your problem? Truthfully, Ron, give it up now if you do, because last I checked, we were fine."

"We _are_ fine, mate," sighed Ron sincerely, levitating his teacup to the sink. "Good on you-- you just... go ahead and shag whomever you want. It's just-- Malfoy?"

Ron looked up and found that Harry was looking at him with a half-smirk playing at the edge of his lips. "You've no idea, do you?"

"Aww, don't start with that, Harry. I get it, I do. It's... it's fine," Ron said as the cup and saucer washed themselves. "We going out for that fly later?" It was time for a change of subject. He didn't want to hear about Malfoy's skills or better qualities; he didn't want the details he might not mind nearly as much about anyone else Harry shagged. He didn't want to _hear_ about Malfoy; he wanted to _know_ firsthand.

As soon as the thought flitted across his mind, his eyes went round, starting as though burned, gaze darting to Harry to see if he'd noticed, but Harry was busy looking-- what was that he was looking? Pensive. That was it. Ron on the other hand was now going to be miserable for a while as he found some way to torture his mind for even suggesting that it was Malfoy that fueled his imagination... and Ron had a very active imagination that involved a lot of mornings filled with hair tousled just like that and skin and sweat and--

Bastard. Slytherin. Turncoat. Spy. Bloody, sodding, best-mate-shagging... Ferret.

This was not happening. People say that soldiers come out of war traumatized and scarred, but no one can really understand until it happens to them. Damn good thing this wasn't happening.

"Ron? Ron!" Harry was saying, looking as though he'd said it more than once already. "Did you even hear me?"

"What? Oh, yeah! 'Course," Ron said, as though he knew exactly what was going on. "Go for a fly before lunch, maybe take Hermione out to the new curry shop. Check." Apparently his subconscious was trying to make it up to him.

"...Right," murmured Harry, gesturing upstairs. "I'm going to go shower and change."

"Yeah, yeah," Ron said, nodding too quickly. "...What?" Harry was looking at him-- doing that quirked eyebrow thing for a second too long and Ron's skin crawled again. "What?!"

"Nothing," said Harry, retreating a step up, smirking now. "Relax, mate." He turned and jogged up two steps, stopped and jogged back down. "Hey-- d'you want to come out with me tonight?"

"what? Why?" snapped Ron, normalcy frayed to a thin strand as he tried to examine the events of the morning and pinpoint exactly where things had gone pear-shaped.

"Drink. Dance. Drink. Blow off some steam," shrugged Harry. "The usual."

"Yeah," said Ron, nodding though his voice held a sarcastic edge, his eyes a touch too wide. "That sounds... relaxing."

###

It was late, but not so late that Remus had taken his moderate drunkenness to his room. He was slumped in his armchair with a photo album open on his lap; the cover battered and torn but the pages inside charmed crisp, photos safe though they were beginning to brown with age. Every so often he would pause and run a finger over a photo, perhaps take a slow, small sip from the glass next to him. The absence of everyone in the photos was still felt keenly, but it hurt less; just a little less every day had taken the edge off. Occasionally he found a photo to apologize to, perhaps one to lift his glass for, but generally, he felt better than he had in years. With Tonks especially, he'd fallen back into the role of level-headed ~~co-conspirator~~ friend, though she possessed a familiar knack for dragging him into her madness. He came to the conclusion that it must run in the family.

He had no idea whether Tonks was putting a brave face on something so difficult-- coming to grips with the fact that the life one has grown accustomed to is a lie; comfort and a welcome warmth, but nothing close to what anyone should hope for in their lives. Remus knew because he'd come to the conclusion himself a few months back, and hadn't had the stones to do anything except suggest that perhaps they'd be happier in separate bedrooms.

Correction: he was fairly certain that she was being straightforward in her nonchalance, but he feared that the uncertainty there earlier was covering something more. The last thing he'd ever wanted was to hurt her.

For that conclusion, he hoisted his glass and muttered, "...paved with good intentions."

Before he could take a drink, the fireplace blazed green and his girlf-- flatmate tumbled through, giggling. Tonks landed hard on her arse and promptly flopped over onto the hearth rug, the giggle becoming laughter so incapacitating as to keep her from pushing away from the ground.

Remus brought the glass back down and grinned, shutting the photo album and setting it aside. "Alright there, love?"

Bright pink hair pulled into two short pigtails, Tonks rolled onto her back, her giggling directed at the ceiling now. "Remus, it was... fuckin' brilliant. Shoulda seen it."

Leaning his head on his fist, elbow propped on the chair, Remus continued to grin. "Go on. What did I miss?"

"Th' counter girl. Colleen. Said she's straight as a pin. Said she's never been to Floxie's," sighed Tonks, the statement causing another gale of laughter.

"Uh-huh," encouraged Remus, amused, knowing this was not the extent of the tale. "So you took her."

"So she says she'll give it a try. We get there, and she's... just... just _grabby_ , and and then this _blond_ hits on her! And they danced! And she left with her! Colleen! Left with the blond girl!" Tonks was still laughing hard, wiping tears of mirth away as she rolled up onto an elbow to look at Remus. "What the fuck, mate?"

Remus pinched the bridge of his nose as he chuckled, eyeing the distance to the ground warily before sliding to sit there too. He offered the glass to Tonks, who sat up with no seeming difficulty, grinning as she took it and took a huge sip.

"So you turned her, but she went astray." grinned Remus as he took the glass back, reached behind himself for the bottle and refilled it. "That's a damn shame. She had beautiful hair."

"Mmmm. Red," agreed Tonks, sparing another snort of laughter. "You said, 'turned'."

"I did," Remus agreed dryly as capped the bottle, unsurprised when Tonks crawled up and sat next to him, back to the chair for support. Her head lolled onto his shoulder and he handed her the glass, slipping his arm around her. "Not such a good night, then?"

"What? No! Brilliant," said Tonks too quickly, taking another large drink without so much as a flinch. "I just-- us. I didn't want you to hate me. I might be trying too hard to make this easy." She lifted her head and peered at him. "I do that, in case you hadn't noticed."

"Pfft," agreed Remus, echoing her statement from earlier in the morning. "Never." Squeezing her shoulders, he sighed. "We're friends and we're staying that way. And honestly... honestly I think if we were ever anything else... I think that was long ago."

Tonks was quiet for a long stretch and Remus was suddenly worried he'd said the wrong thing. As he was about to apologize, she laughed low under her breath. He might have missed it if he'd begun speaking just a fraction of a second earlier, but as it was, he did not. She suddenly sunk her teeth into his shoulder, growling playfully, shaking her head back and forth, forcing him to squeeze her again until she let go, grinning up at him. "You're a very smart dog, Remus John."

"Thank you Nymphadora," he said, wry grin firmly in place. He took another sip and handed her the glass. "You're a creature of unparalleled psychoses, and it's my pleasure to know you."

"You know what we need?" she said, sitting up abruptly, the community glass firmly cradled in both hands. "We need a plot."

"...A plot?" repeated Remus, half-smile threatening to break into the smirk that took twenty years off of his age and made it clear that he was definitely up to no good. "What are we talking about here?"

"A plot. To... to fix this. Come on," said Tonks with a beckoning gesture. "Come on. One person on this earth that you want to shag, and thought you never would or could."

Remus snorted a laugh, letting his head thump back against the chair, surprised to find that the ceiling was a little fuzzier than he remembered. "How will that fix anything? And do we really need fixing _now_?"

"No, yeah, we do. Here's why-" Tonks said, knees bouncing as she spoke with animated gestures. "Because new relationships are intoxicating. They, they, fix everything and leave self-pity all in a ditch in their wake. So if we can maneuver ourselves into at least a good shag, we'll be flush with renewal and ready to take on the world."

It was Remus' turn to laugh hard, taking the drink back and stretching his elbow out on the seat behind him as he carefully straightened up again. He wasn't entirely convinced, but he was too drunk and too intrigued to argue. "Alright. You first. Anyone in the world, Tonks, who would you shag?"

Tonks replied without hesitation. "Ginny Weasley."

Remus nearly choked on his own spit. "I'm sorry?"

"Oh hell, I'm not," said Tonks, almost incredulous. "Have you seen her lately? She's all leg and tits and arse and she's got a wicked sense of humor and a wicked throwing arm. Girl like that..." Tonks leered and bit her lower lip. "Girl like that would make a lucky girl's weekend. Could make a girl's _year_."

It had taken Remus the duration of Tonks' speech to do the math in his head and come up with the fact that Ginny Weasley was now twenty years old and perfectly old enough to serve as the object of Tonks' affection... err. Lust, and he nodded once. "Alright. What's stopping you?"

Tonks rolled her eyes. "You for one." Immediately sorry, she reached out for Remus' thigh. "Oh my god, I'm sorry."

Remus waved it off, "No, no, we're fine. We've established that this, today-- this was belated. You have... you have total amnesty for anything you say here." He took another sip and patted her hand. "As do I."

Suddenly intimate with the feeling of being immediately sorry, Remus winced as Tonks' eyes lit up. "Oh! Oh-HO. I see how it is!! Come on, Professor. Give it up. Anyone in the world-- who would you shag?"

Covering his face with the hand not holding the glass, Remus pressed his lips to a straight line and braced himself before murmuring something he knew to be unintelligible.

Without warning, Tonks slapped the hand away, grinning manically. "Come on! _I_ told _you_! How do you expect to manage this plot if your co-conspirator doesn't have an end goal? Reeeemus!"

"Fine, fine," Remus said, slapping her away in turn. "Severus Snape. There. Happy now? ...Tonks?"

She was staring open-mouthed, blinking, jaw working for a moment before she actually said, "Holy shite. You've got a problem."

Snorting a laugh, Remus let his head thump back again. "You're telling me."

"But... _why_?"

Shutting his eyes, Remus sighed and gave control of his brain over to his nether regions, pulled the censors off of his mouth and just started talking. "Have you ever heard the man speak, Tonks? I mean really _heard_ ; the tone of his voice is a fucking aphrodesiac-- he can be calling the entire Order a pack of idiots and I practically need to be hosed down. The way he moves, the... the grace and strength in his hands; the fucking bullshit that we put him through and he _still_ never once backed down, or wished us all a nice life or sold us out to Voldemort. Not once. Far as I know never even considered it and if he did I'm even more impressed because the fact remains that he didn't. He lied and bled over and over for us all and all he wants is to be left alone. And all I want is to not."

Silence reigned again and Remus wished that he could unsay everything he'd said past 'the man has a sexy voice' but he knew neither he nor Tonks were drunk enough to forget it. Cracking one eye open, he realized that Tonks was still staring, except the look on her face had changed dramatically, hand covering her mouth in a frozen moment of utter shock.

"Tonks, I'm... so sorry--" Remus started to say. "I don't even know how long--"

"You _do_ have a problem," Tonks interrupted, eyes narrowing to a frightening level of determination. "But we're going to fix it." 


	2. Sunday

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sundays sort of suck when you've spent a significant portion of Saturday night wasted, as apparently everyone but Severus did. Ginny comes home on a break and Ron's head comes dangerously close to combusting. And he can't even blame it on the alliteration issues in that first sentence.

**Sunday**

Morning dawned bright, only Tonks and Remus were still passed out and missed it entirely. Sometime around ten AM, though, a hand was on Remus' shoulder, shaking him gently. Either that, or the room was a little uneven and threatening to spill him out of the sofa he'd managed to fall asleep on. Possibly it was a little of both.

"Urgh," he moaned, making to rub his eye, but missing. "Christ. My head."

"Shhhhh," urged Tonks, her voice a low buzz, face low enough to the ground that she must have been crawling. "Brought you hangover stuff," she said, holding out a bottle of friendly blue potion. "Mine hasn't kicked in yet. Just a little bit longer though, and we'll be alright."

Remus took the bottle, murmuring, "oh, God. I love you," though whether he was addressing the bottle or Tonks or both was unclear. He uncorked it, downed most of what was left, recorked it and dropped it negligently in several drawn-out motions before finally rolling onto his back and blinking. The potion worked its way through his body, making his skin tingle and break out into a sweat as the alcohol by-products in his system began leeching out magically. After a moment, he growled, "Any chance you were too drunk to remember everything I said last night?"

"Pffft," huffed Tonks, though from her position face-down on the rug, it sounded more like, "Mppph." "Remember all of it. Did you forget what we're doing about it?"

Groaning, Remus tossed one forearm across his eyes. "No." A little frightened that his drunken thought processes mirrored his mostly-sober ones, as he was coming to the same conclusion. No self-respecting Marauder, aged or not, would walk away from such a challenge, and it had been a while since he'd had to try. "No, I didn't forget."

"Good, because we already got a response," said Tonks, holding up an envelope, Harry's handwriting recognizable on the front.

"Oh shite," grumbled Remus. "We actually sent that, didn't we?"

"We certainly did," said Tonks, pushing herself up with another groan, shaking her head out slowly as she did. "Looks like we've got a party to plan."

It had been a while, sure. But Remus had a partner in crime again. 

###

Sunday morning came early and so did Harry for the the who-knew-how-many-eth time since dragging Terry home from the club in his half-tipsy state last night. Though he had to admit that it was a good way to wake up, it didn't mean anything except he'd gotten his share of release for the weekend. Harry sent him home shortly after eight and Terry apparently had no problem with this. Besides, no one named 'Harry' could consciously date someone named 'Terry'. This was as good an excuse as any before and would do spectacularly if anyone asked him what would come of it. The answer was always the same, anyway-- nothing.

Harry walked him out to the back door, admonished him to get some sleep, and closed the door behind him, not waiting to watch him Disapparate. He then padded to the kitchen table, trying to decide whether to stay awake or go back to bed. Leaning toward 'bed', he began to make his way back to the stairs until he spotted the envelope in the mail slot above the counter. The handwriting was crooked, but he recognized it as Tonks' scrawl, and looking faintly puzzled, he opened it. And then continued to look positively puzzled.

> Dear Harry,
> 
> Hi there. Remus and I figure that at this hour you and the kids are still at the club, or you've already chosen your flavor of the week and are busily shagging him or her (and either way, good for you, because that's what kids ought to do, not fight dark lords and save the world and whatnot)(but you did a fucking fantastic job of that, let me tell you). But we wanted to send this now while we still can write sort of straight. (ha! I said 'straight'.)
> 
> Oi, speaking of Dark Lords, this coming Friday, the whole Ministry shindig? I think we should all boycott it. It's stupid, their dedicating a memorial when they spent most of the war with their heads up their collective arse. I know you hate that kind of shite, and you know most of the rest of us do too. So I propose you let me take over 12G on Friday and we'll have an anti-party. Alcohol and food, just friends-- we'll have a smashing time and let the Ministry twist without any of their newest ranks of the Order of Merlin at their stupid little party. What do you say? We'll even clean up.
> 
> Love you, hope you're taking care of yourself,  
>  Tonks and Remus
> 
> PS: When I say 'Tonks and Remus', I mean, 'Tonks and Remus as friends', because me and Remus, we're not 'Tonks-and-Remus-who-shag' anymore. ~~mostly~~ Don't be shocked-- it happened yesterday officially but we've since worked out that it was not only for the best but a long time coming. Anyway, we're still mates and all, and we still live here, so no worries, just thought I'd let you know for clarity's sake. Aye? 

Harry read and then reread the note, eyebrow quirked and wondering if Tonks hadn't been just a touch sloshed when she'd written the message. Then again, this was Tonks, there really could be no telling. With a shrug, he decided to heed his first instinct to beg directly off and began searching for something with which to write back and tell her she could have her party somewhere else. 

That is, until the door banged open and admitted a windblown Ginny, who tossed what appeared to be a tiny carpetbag onto the table with a dramatic sigh, pausing only to prop her broomstick on the stand near the ones already in residence. Moving forward, she began speaking as though she'd been interrupted midsentence, as if it hadn't been weeks since she'd disappeared for training camp. Perhaps the door had not blown open. Perhaps it had just seemed like it should have.

"Harry, I'm telling you, training is brilliant. There are proper coaches and the Pitch feels as though it's twice as big as the Hogwarts one, but it really isn't, and the Bludgers move twice as fast and are wicked bastards of a degree unimaginable to civilians such as you," said Ginny, stopping when she was close enough to kiss Harry on the cheek.

For his part, Harry didn't mind. It saved him the trouble of having to ask all the questions himself. He grinned as he returned the gesture. "Hey, Gin. Good time, then?"

"Oh, hell yes. Fucking. Brilliant. Should give it a try," enthused Ginny as she pulled away and snooped in the ice box, emerging with a glass bottle a third of the way full of orange juice. "I mean, not with the Harpies, 'cos no matter how many blokes you shag, you'd still lack the necessary equipment." She took a long drink, feigning oblivious to Harry's eyeroll, going on after she swallowed. "But you should. Hear United's Seeker is in a world of trouble for his pathetic performance last season and they're shopping about. What's that?"

Harry didn't have a chance to argue as she pulled the note out of his hand and read it. "Oh. Oh yes. This is a great idea." Ginny said, eyes sparkling as she looked up, distractedly setting down the juice. "We're doing this, right?"

" _No,_ " said Harry, unimpressed as he snatched the note back. "We're not. I hate those things."

"So what? We're all just going to sit around and stare at each other while we drink ourselves into a haze? 'Cos you know none of _us_ are going to that stupid Ministry thing."

"Don't see why not," muttered Harry, resuming his quest for a writing implement. Ginny didn't have to answer aloud to make him feel the weight of her glare on his back. "I'm serious. It'll probably be really posh, and there'll be tons of publicity. It'd probably be good for all of you."

"And leave you here on your own to wallow? Sod that, mate. Besides," scoffed Ginny, cocking her eyebrow in the direction of the parchment in his hand. "We could have more fun here."

Harry paused to point at her with the bent quill he finally found. "Who appointed you in charge of everyone else's plans? How would you know who's doing what?"

"Well, no one's going _out_ , because no one in young Wizarding Britain will be out when they could be at the Ministry party. And that means none of _us_ have a choice." She weighed them in her hands. "Ministry party, or empty club." With that, she dropped her hands. "Or have our own party. Because impromptu pity party or planned-ahead raging good time, it's going to happen. Why do you think I came back here this week?"

Harry stared a hole through her, knowing she was right and hating it a lot. "Fine," he growled, shoving the note at Ginny. "You're in charge."

"YES!" shouted Ginny, triumphant. "You won't be sorry. It'll be amazing."

"That's what I'm afraid of," Harry grumbled, completely serious. 

"Gin!" said another voice from the back stairs, easily recognizable as Neville's, given that he didn't have to shout to project just how glad he was to see her. "You're back!"

Ginny on the other hand popped onto her toes and rushed him, forcing him a step back as she bear-hugged the tall, solid boy. "Nev! Lookit you!" 

"It's been five weeks, Gin," grumbled Harry, running a hand through his hair as he exhaled hard, giving over to the idea of a party and going back to the business of finding tea, now that bed didn't really seem an option. 

"Yeah, but I haven't seen him, and here he is!" laughed Ginny as Neville squished her properly.

"She's right, though, Harry," Neville deadpanned, letting his arm fall around her shoulders in a comfortable gesture. "I really am here." Harry only shook his head, charming the teapot to heat as Neville poked Ginny. "Come on, tell me about training camp."

"Oh! Mate, it is--"

"Brilliant," supplied Harry, gesturing toward Ginny. "I got the ten-second recap."

"What he said," grinned Ginny. "Now shut up, Harry. Anyway--"

Harry only listened peripherally to her going on about camp-- sure, he'd thought about Quidditch, but after everything that had happened, he'd just wanted to do something quietly useful without playing on his name or fading scar. He didn't need to be a star or an extraneous celebrity-- in fact, he found that he genuinely enjoyed his work as on-call maintenance-slash-security for the newly-reopened halfway house just on the Muggle side of Diagon. Ginny (and anyone else for that matter) was welcome to shine in his stead, and he'd taken no end of pleasure in buying out an upper box at Holyhead's Pitch for the entire coming season.

When the tea was ready and Ginny was just at the tale of the iron-knickered assistant coach, Harry poured the rest of the forgotten orange juice into a tall glass and shoved it at Ginny, conversely taking the time to hand carefully a mug full of tea prepared exactly right to Neville. Not examining the impulse closely, he reached up and ruffled the side of Neville's head in passing as he mumbled, "I've changed my mind. I'll be down later."

Neville offered a wave as Ginny reached out and smacked another kiss to Harry's cheek. "Later. I brought presents, too. Go sleep that shag off."

He would have elbowed her, but Neville beat her to it. Instead he shook his head and continued up the stairs, only to nearly crash into Ron halfway up. 

"Hey- how'd you--"

"GRRR," was all Ron said as he hopped the last step and disappeared into the kitchen. 

Harry shrugged and decided to let it go. He'd hear about it soon enough.

###

It wasn't quite ten o'clock in the sodding morning and Ron was already pissed off. It he hadn't been so damned hungover, he'd classify it as 'disgruntled', but as things stood, 'pissed off' was what he'd managed. 

He couldn't believe it. Floxie's was supposed to have been relaxing. Fun. Steam-blowing. Ah fuck. 'blowing' was probably not the term he wanted at the moment. Whatever. It wasn't supposed to have been maddening, crazy-making, and outright infuriating. Malfoy and his pack of Slytherins and sympathizers had no business at their club and they sure as hell had no business looking at him, nor did Malfoy have any of the same business dancing with... anyone. Much less Harry. 

Or ~~everyone except him~~ anyone else. 

The very thought made him growl in his head (and at Harry in passing, actually). Not the thought, rather the fact that he was thinking it. It certainly hadn't helped that everyone else around him seemed to either be paired off or in the process of managing it, save Luna and Neville, who didn't count. They had been busy entertaining each other in the same sort of mostly-platonic sort of affection that he felt for Harry and Hermione. Who in turn had been busy pulling all too easily, thereby leaving him to his own devices-- devices that prompted him to drink more in order to forget that Malfoy was in the room and busy flirting and laughing and dancing and drinking and just... breathing.

 _Dancing_ , for god's sake. And managing to meet Ron's eyes almost every time he accidentally looked over.

Ron frowned, shook himself off and came to the realization that there were other people in the room. Not that he honestly cared-- he was in the midst of a serious crisis. But apparently the people in the room _did_ care, because suddenly they were talking to him.

"It's my brother the horse's arse!" said Ginny good-naturedly.

"Sorry, Charlie's not here right now," muttered Ron with a half-hearted nod. When she had no comeback, he looked up, spoon halfway to his mug, immediately suspicious.

"Oh. Oh that's just not good," Ginny said. "You seriously look like shite."

Narrowing his eyes, Ron said, "Hey, Nev. You about ready to toss my little sister out on her arse?"

"Nah," said Neville with the tiniest of smirks. "I missed her. Strange, but true."

"Besides, you don't want to throw me out," shrugged Ginny. "I'm organizing the party on Friday."

"...Party?" said Ron, leaving off the stirring as he peered at Ginny. 

"Anti-Party! Biting our collective thumb at the Ministry--" 

"Urgh," Ron scowled. It sounded like a terrible idea, and he had no compunction about saying so. "That's a terrible idea, Gin. Harry's going to have your head."

"Nuh-uh, genius. He okayed it," she answered with a shrug.

"Yeah? Well I live here too and I still think it's a shitty idea."

"Yeah?" said Ginny, who had managed to come and stand toe-to-toe with Ron, who topped her by at least six inches. "Well I guess you must want to sit here in the dark with Harry and watch him brood and drink, right? Because you of all people know he will."

Ron set his jaw, arms crossed as he stared her down, loathe to admit she might be right. The tone and pitch of her voice was the current equivalent of a jackhammer in his brain, and he'd give almost anything to walk away from it, but this situation was just the icing on the biscuit.

"Yeah? What makes you think he won't lock himself in his room and do that anyway?"

"You, idiot," Ginny said, poking at his chest. "It'll be our job to make sure the only he reason he disappears is if he's shagging someone convenient. Absolutely no brooding allowed."

"What?!" sputtered Ron. "No. Whatever. Have your party, I'll go somewhere else. But I'm not minding Harry. He's a grown man."

"It's not _minding_. It's looking out for a friend. That's what you do, right?"

That was hitting below the belt. Especially because she was right again. Ron blew a huge sigh up through his fringe, not bothering to answer her, saying instead, "I need to go out for--" he lifted the empty glass bottle on the edge of the counter, "--Juice."

"In your pyjamas?" said Ginny, head cocked to one side, wearing the insufferable expression of someone that's managed to prevail in the face of great adversity. Well, Ron could be just as stubborn.

"Yeah. In my pyjamas," he said, suddenly fiercely protective of his faded Canons bottoms and the eldest gray t-shirt he owned. "Problem?"

"No," smirked Ginny. "You go ahead and do that."

"I will," he said to her face. Under any other circumstances the possibility of bright sunlight in his current state would have cowed him, but now he had a point to prove. He strode to the door and opened it, only to find Hermione poised at the doorknob, key in one hand, paper bag in the other. "Hermione?"

She straightened and handed him the bag, patting the loose bun of her hair sheepishly. "Err. Good morning! Where..." Her sharp eyes took in the state of his clothing and hair, and she furrowed her brow. "Going somewhere?"

"Out," said Ginny from the kitchen, grinning foolishly. "Hi!"

"Gin!" shouted Hermione, setting Ron's teeth on edge as she shoved past him and hugged Ginny. "You're back!"

Ron looked in the bag, where a multi-pack of hangover remedy, a large bottle of orange juice and a sack of what were presumably pastries by the stains on the bag stared back. He slammed the door shut and headed right back to the stairs.

"Oi-- not sharing?" asked Ginny disingenuously, and was then forced into catching easily the muffin that Ron launched at her full-strength.

"Weasley scores!" she cheered, grinning as she added, "Or at least, this one does."

The next muffin hit her in the head, but she caught it on the rebound.

###

It was Severus' custom to rise early every day, regardless of the arbitrary labels having to do with days of the week. Since he'd left Hogwarts --no; since he'd left the employ of the Dark Lord-- he adhered to the schedule of a true Potions master. He brewed with the phases of the moon and the position of the sun, the availability of ingredients and the needs of whatever potions he was working on. Conveniently, he also no longer had a need to deal with the snot-nosed brats of the wizarding masses and their total ignorance and lack of aptitude.

Consulting his meticulous notes on the subject at hand, Severus added exactly four and one half grams of ground hematite and two thirds of a swallowskullful of dried and crushed almond blossom to the cauldron burbling in front of him. He made another note with a satisfied nod as it turned golden yellow, took a step back and set a small timer for exactly thirteen hours, and moved on to the next cauldron.

He was lucky in many ways, he supposed, that the one true passion of his life should be the only real avenue of employment left to him since the end of the War. Potter's testimony as well as the posthumous testimony given by Albus's portrait and pensive were the only things that had stood between Severus and a long, hard sentence in Azkaban, and Severus supposed that he should be grateful. Theoretical and actual circumstances were two different stories however, and he found that his loathing for the Potter boy had only lessened enough that Severus was grudgingly congratulatory of his success in not dying in the effort to kill Voldemort. It was the thought that counted, anyway.

Scowling, he found that the mixture had not reduced far enough to be usable quite yet. He adjusted the flame, gave the cauldron a careful half-turn counter-clockwise and found that he now had exactly forty-two minutes with which he could go upstairs and prepare a cup of tea. Shedding his gloves and shop apron at the door, he moved as quickly up the stairs as his knee allowed and set about doing so in relative peace.

Unwilling to sit until his tea was ready, given that he'd rather avoid his difficulty in standing again more than once, he moved to the table and leaned, lifting the morning's _Prophet_ warily, wondering what inane thing would occupy the front page now. A cat the color of midnight wound around his ankles as the Minister waved vacantly from his campaign trail photograph and Severus turned the page without bothering to do more than skim the headline. Still, his jaw hadn't set tight until he came across the page four 'news'.

It seemed he was cursed with the fact that Potter would forcibly never be far from his thoughts. He and Granger and Weasley by all accounts could not be arsed to be secretive about their mundane and now pointless little lives, and it appeared that the whole of the Wizarding world still regarded Potter's every move as worthy of scrutiny. Especially since it also appeared that Potter's every move involved almost every single young person in the Wizarding world. It was disgusting. This morning's edition featured a photo of he and Granger dancing at a nightclub accompanied by speculation regarding whether he'd 'finally given in to his best friend of ten years or had ditched her for long time rival Draco Malfoy,' featured involved in what passed for dancing with Potter in the larger photo below.

As far as he was concerned, Potter could kill himself drinking and whoring, but he was disappointed. For all that Draco had been through, he exhibited as little sense as might be expected from one of Potter's cronies. The idea that he might be romantically involved with the prat... made Severus faintly ill. The only thing that kept him from owling Draco straightaway was the fact that even blurry and shot in nightvision, the photograph showed that Draco was watching intently someone outside of the range of the tableau, as though he were stalking prey. Any idiot should be able to see that Potter was just a convenient proxy.

Considering the location, Severus had not much hope for the boy at any rate. But at least he had hope of never again being subjected to puerile headlines along the lines of 'Boy Hero looks to the Classics Less Than a Week Before _The Anniversary_ ; Romeo and Julien?'

Lip curled, he Banished the entire paper to the hearth and set it afire with a disgusted sideways glance. 

The teapot whistled, the cat hopped onto the chair to wait and see if there were scraps to be had, and Severus made a cup of tea in the comfortable, deafening quiet.


	3. Saturday

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Remus gets to work on his part of the plottage, Tonks puts in an order, Ron feels like a grumpy old man, and Harry wants curry. Again.

**Monday**

The golden potion had been decanted and the sludge was relatively usable as a base for the specific family of potions his able yet moronic clients had requested. Severus decided that he should start work on the latest iteration of the experimental polyjuice that the Ministry paid him too well to work on. Not well enough that he agreed to the same kind of oath to which the Unspeakables that had begun the work had been subjected, but enough that they'd bought his silence nonetheless. Given he was the only Potions Master in Wizarding Britain who was capable of continuing the work, he was not entirely surprised.

He set out the ingredients on a shelf in a corner of his basement lab dedicated to long-term projects, three small burners and matching cauldrons. With a final check to verify that he had at least two hours before the sludge client would be expecting delivery, he rolled up his shirtsleeves, fastened his heavy, charmed-impervious shop apron and hung a pair of clear safety goggles around his neck. From his stores, he produced two knives, one silver and one iron, and began dragging them down the whetstone set into the cabinet door.

Just as he was nearly satisfied with the state of the silver knife, the doorbell upstairs rang. Severus' mask of concentration dissolved immediately into a scowl, and though he was tempted to ignore the caller, knew that only a few people knew where or how to find his home.

All he knew was that if the bloody, sodding Dark Lord had risen again, he was leaving the country and duty be damned.

Knife forgotten but still in hand, Severus stalked up the stairs, his knee warm and in better working order than it had been yesterday. Still outfitted for the lab, he tugged the door open, already growling, "What?"

Lupin. Delivery boy for the sodding Weasley twins. No matter how often they called him a _partner_ in the business, Severus assumed Lupin's job was tantamount to charity; after all, Lupin seemed hardly the sort to engage in tomfoolery of the twins' kind, school record notwithstanding. Though he was an utter failure at Potions, his mind was sharp and his temperament suited for the position of professorship that Severus had despised for so long... and yet would be denied because of his lycanthropy. As he well should be. Werewolves were dangerous, unpredictable creatures, and had no place around children... even ignorant little bastards with no intention to learn anything but how to cast Silencing Charms and hexes.

"Good afternoon, Severus," Lupin said, ever smooth and unruffled by Severus' uncharitable tone. "I'm here for the order of gum base-- I hope I'm not too early?"

Severus crossed his arms over his apron, a network of myriad small scars dotting and criss-crossing his forearms visible thanks to his turned-up sleeves. "You are."

"Apologies," said Lupin with a smile that spoke of abashed good graces and Severus scowled further. People managed to find the man trustworthy and harmless, but Severus knew better. "I was using it as an excuse to ask you for a favor. Do you have a moment?"

After a moment's hesitation in which he jumped to any number of conclusions in his mind as to what this _favor_ might be (none of which were inappropriate in any way, damn it all), Severus stepped back from the door, still scowling and muttered, "Come in."

###

Ron frowned at the kitchen table, then made a decent effort not to. It almost worked until a sudden rush of owls bombarded him with letters. Covering his face with one forearm and his tea with the other hand, he swore as a flurry of feathers and parchment landed on and around him. Silence reigned again and he cautiously lowered his arms, lifting the first of the letters on his lap and holding it up close in order to be able to read it. It was just a simple postcard-- a cheerful greeting from Seamus and Lavender lauding the idea of a secret secodary party and assuring Ginny that they would definitely be there. Together, teehee, etc. kiss kiss.

From the shape and substance of the others --really only four or five, though it had seemed like more when the bearers of such had assaulted him-- Ron could only assume that they were more of the same. Scowling again for no apparent reason, Ron snatched them up and decided to take them to their rightful owner himself, which would conveniently give him a target for some of his ire. Tea forgotten, he exited the kitchen at a low boil and attacked the stairs as a warm-up act. At the third floor landing, he narrowed his eyes and peered down the corridor nodding once intently as he remembered which door Ginny's room was, then made his way toward it. He did in fact pause with his hand on the doorknob, unwilling to walk in without making sure he wouldn't be scarred for life by anything he might see, and so he crouched a little and set his ear against the smooth wood.

All was quiet-- then there was a murmur of voices, and suddenly the door opened inward and Ron found himself face to face with a disheveled Susan, tshirt straining tight against ample breasts that had apparently never heard of a brassiere. Her face broke into a grin that was too close to a leer and she deadpanned, "You're too late for the show, Ron. You could probably go listen at Harry's door, though."

Ginny snickered and waved as Susan moved past Ron. "Good times, luv. Was excellent to see you!"

"You too, darling. Don't be a stranger," called Susan over her shoulder just before disappearing down the stairs.

Ron set his jaw, eyes fixed on the ceiling. "Real nice, Gin."

"Isn't she?" answered Ginny unconcernedly. "She'll make someone a wonderful girlfriend. Not me, because she snores like a bleeding freight train and is uninformed enough about Quidditch to support the Arrows. But someone, certainly." She turned her attention back on Ron and smiled sweetly, her voice taking on an edge of supreme solicitousness. "You eavesdropped?"

" _No_ , said Ron, indignant as he took a turn shoving past Ginny and into her room. "I was bringing you your post."

"Thoughtful," muttered Ginny, shrugging as he slumped into the chair near the rumpled bed that she collapsed upon. "What brought that on?"

"Wanted to make sure you know you're an idiot," he grumbled as he flung them at her flat stomach. "This party is still a terrible idea."

"RSVPs!" she said cheerfully as she picked up the first card and read it. "Nuh-uh. Look-- even Dean thinks it's brilliant, though I'm the one that did the inviting."

Ron groaned, dropped his hands over his eyes and slumped further into the armchair, and Ginny half sat up to get a better look. "Alright. What's your problem?"

"I don't know," muttered Ron, though he did. He knew clearly that he didn't want to say to his sister that everyone he knew had persons or people knocking down doors, drinks and any semblance of propriety to get to them, and he couldn't even score a one-off. Because he didn't want to. Because he was desperately infatuated with the one person Harry seemed to care to see on a regular basis. And that Ron hated him. The person in question, that is, not Harry. What he didn't know was how to make it stop, and how to move on without being a miserable, cranky sod for the rest of his life. At this rate he'd be yelling at the neighborhood kids to get off of the lawn in the space of a few short months.

"It's about Malfoy, isn't it?" Ginny sighed.

Ron's eyes went comically wide, though all he could see was again, the ceiling, through the bare space between his fingers. "I--"

"Ron, you have to get over it," Ginny said in a knowing tone that made Ron's skin crawl. He could see the set of her eyebrows in his mind's eye and already knew she looked far too much like their mother. "You'll never get any peace until you do."

He also panicked. What did Ginny know? How did she know it? Jesus-- was he being transparent? He hated being transparent!

"I mean," she went on. "I don't like him all that much either, but he's not _that_ bad, and Harry seems to like him just fine. Maybe-- I don't know. Maybe you should spend some time getting to know him and maybe he won't seem like such an arse."

"What?!" sputtered Ron, relieved yet... disappointed. At least if Ginny knew, she could have put her heinous little mind to the task of solving the problem. There was no way _he_ was telling her, though.

"I know, I know, but listen-- as long as Harry wants him around, you'll never be rid of him, so you know. You'd better do what you have to do to put it behind you."

The last thing Ron wanted to contemplate was Malfoy behind him. It made him warm in funny places he couldn't be in public to touch. In fact, at that last thought, Ron stood quickly and threw up his hands. "Whatever. Maybe I'll just avoid him for the rest of my life. Isn't as if he's moving in."

"He might," said Ginny with a shrug, pulling a small notebook from her side table. "You don't know that. Maybe Harry'll want to settle down one day soon and maybe--"

"--Just stop," said Ron, already at the door.

"Hey--" Ginny added, flipping to the right page in the book to mark off the new reservations. "You know, Susan doesn't have a date for the party, I could Floo her and see if she'd want to go with you. If you don't already have plans."

Ron stopped in his tracks, grimaced and turned to face Ginny. "You're serious."

"Oh yeah!" said Ginny, offhand. "She thinks you're rather fit. Suggested some kinky sharing sort of scenario, but I made it clear that I'd rather be dipped in gravy and tossed to wild dingoes than see you starkers much less touch you inappropriately. No offense."

Ron could only stare in horror as Ginny went on.

"I think it may have crushed her dreams of being surrounded by Weasley, but I think she'd be alright with conquering the family one at a time. It'd make her year. What do you think? Ron?"

The door slammed shut behind him as he fled the scene for work, hoping to never speak to his sister again as long as they lived.

###

Harry was on his way upstairs for his keys and wallet, mug of tea in hand and about two minutes from leaving for work when he crossed paths with Ron on the stairwell. He grinned and said, "Hey- how'd you--"

"GRRR," was all Ron said as he hopped the last step and disappeared into the kitchen.

Frowning, Harry watched him go and muttered to himself, "Alright, that has got to stop."

"He's been like that since Saturday, at least," said Neville from the second floor landing, and Harry's head popped up, surprised he'd overheard.

"Yeah. Wish I knew what'd set it off though," said Harry, scrubbing a hand hopelessly through his hair as he climbed the last few stairs to Neville. "'Cos if it's Tonks' party..."

"I don't think that's it," said Neville, hands shoved deep in his pockets in an age-old gesture of trying to make himself small, though given how tall and broad-shouldered he'd grown, it was a futile effort.

"No?" Harry sighed, leaning against the wall of the hallway across from Neville. "Hell. Ideas?"

Neville shook his head as he leaned against the opposite wall. "No. Just... the look on his face. He's frustrated that he can't have something. Reminds me of back in the beginning of fourth year."

Harry grimaced at the memory. "Great."

"Morning!" called Ginny as she hopped around the bannister on the last two steps of the upper flight of stairs still in a camisole and pyjama bottoms, ran between them and continued on her way. "Make way! I need food!" She stopped halfway, and jogged back to the top stair and smack Neville on the side. "We're running tomorrow, just so you know. I'm sort of beat today."

Neville rolled his eyes and made as if to kick her and Harry snorted a laugh as he pushed away from the wall. "Yeah, you two have fun with that."

"Lazy bastard," grumbled Ginny as she ran the rest of the way down to the kitchen.

"Screeching harpy," Harry said with a negligent eyeroll, turning to go. Suddenly he stopped, considered Neville for just a moment and then said, "Hey, Nev-- got plans for lunch?"

"I'd planned to eat it, yeah," Neville said with a smile, pushing away from his side of the hallway as well. "Other than that, I'm free. What's up?"

"The new curry shop we took Hermione to on Saturday. I think I've developed an unhealthy obsession," said Harry, already seeing it in his mind's eye and trying not to look as though he might salivate over the very prospect. "Thought you might appreciate it."

"Oh yeah, I'm in," Neville said with an enthused nod and a hand to his stomach. "Good, then?"

"Fucking fantastic," grinned Harry. Taking a step back toward his room, he nodded too. "Meet you back here around midday?"

Neville held up a hand as he stepped down onto the top stair. "Noon. Get out of here."

Harry offered up a slight wave in return and hurried to retrieve his things, chug down his tea and bolt for the door, determined to get as many of the day's repairs needed as he could before noon. He was looking forward to his lunch, damn it.

###

Tonks hadn't given up the Auror job after the war. Hell, she'd been promoted twice since, and only demoted once, which still left her better off than she had been to begin with. Better pay, at least, which was brilliant as it funded a decent amount of party. _People_ said she'd calmed down significantly once she'd hooked up with Remus, but _people_ were generally unobservant arseholes and what they had to say was not of concern to her. That said, it was possible that she perhaps hadn't had a need for quite as much party these past two years, and that she'd _possibly_ socked away a tidy sum in Galleons she might have otherwise frittered away on clubs, booze and pretty young things.

This happened to work out quite well, given she was going to need a good portion of it for exactly that right now. She stood at the counter of Sclera Brothers Distribution as the burly clerk behind the counter reviewed her order.

"Miss, I realize this is a good deal of refreshment and quite a sale, but unless you have a wholesale license, I'm afraid I won't be able to--"

Tonks tilted her head and leaned hipshot so that her badge and her Order of Merlin showed clipped to her belt under her coat. "It's for a good cause, sir," she said with a winning grin, willing her eyes to go a bit rounder and dewier, cleavage more subtly pronounced. Sod anyone that said it was a cheap trick.

"But the Ministry's already put in their order for Friday, Miss. I don't know--"

"Senior Auror Shacklebolt said I should name drop if I needed to," said Tonks with a hopeful tone. "Please?"

"Oh!" said the clerk, rubbing his stubbly beard with a nod. "Alright. Yes. I'll take care of it."

Tonks popped up onto the balls of her feet grinning hugely as she pulled the quill off of the inkstand on the desk (nearly knocking it over in the process). The clerk sat and waved his wand at the page a few times, referring back to large ledger and then handed it back to her with a total. "We'll need fifty percent of the total up front, fifty on delivery. Please fill in the delivery address there at the bottom. How will you be paying for this?"

"I'll pay for all of it now via personal bank draft, thank you," she said, examining the bill and finding it fair-- more than fair, given he was in fact charging her wholesale prices without much of a markup and wondered what exactly Shacklebolt had done for the man. She scratched a line through the address field and wrote in _"Will be picked up Friday-- Two PM sharp, or else it's the chop."_

The clerk watched confused as she did so, furrowing his brow as she looked up, still grinning manically. "Miss, I don't understand. That's quite an order--"

"That's fine," she explained, signing the slip with a flourish and passing it back to him. "I've got the division of labor under control."

###

"You want _me_ to help you _prank_ your employers," said Severus slowly, eyeing Remus across the small, painfully tidy kitchen with a look that spoke volumes for how his estimation of the man had fallen low in the cramped space of ten minutes, regardless of how appealing the wolf seemed these days.

" _Partners_. And yes. I think they've got it coming to them," Remus said, smiling serenely.

Severus blinked and wondered how the man was not biting his tongue. He leaned forward over his crossed arms and proceeded to rant. "Lupin. I do not produce _jokes_. I produce high-quality potions. The only reason I even agree to work for your _partners_ is that as developmentally flawed as the idiots are, their ideas, spellwork, groundwork, research and potions are often more brilliant than anyone would give them credit for. In fact, the world should likely thank whatever is responsible for having turned them into idiot savants of their magnitude, as their considerable talent turned to other, more sinister ends would pose a threat to society as we know it. Not that most people would notice. As such, I leave the joke-making to them and use what I may of their experiments per our agreement - no more, no less."

"Yes, but will you help _me_?" said Remus, the corner of his mouth twisting upward in almost a smirk.

Glaring, Severus didn't bother with an answer.

Remus reached behind himself and braced one hand outside either hip the counter beside him; predatory while keeping his distance. "I understand they caused havoc and one half for you in your classroom."

"Thank you, yes," replied Severus acidly. "I've tried to forget the details, but the years spent teaching imbeciles don't easily leave one's memory"."

"Didn't you ever just once want to haul them up by the scruff of the neck and slap them? Just once?" asked Remus, still far too amused for Severus' taste.

"Had I given in to the impulse, I would not have stopped at _one_ ," growled Severus, the visual warming his heart slightly.

"So do it now," Remus said, and damn him but he was so convincing. "I'll take responsibility if it comes to it, they'll think it's hilarious, and you'll get the satisfaction you so richly deserve."

"Hardly," said Severus, disgusted that he was even considering the wolf's request. "It isn't as though I would be there to witness it."

"Then come to the party," shrugged Remus as if it were the most natural suggestion.

Severus again looked at him as though he had grown another head. "I think not," he scoffed.

"Oh? Going to the Ministry gala then?"

" _No_. I'm going to carry on with my life as usual."

"Then come to the party. It should prove to be amusing, you'll be there to witness the fruits of your labor and there'll be more than enough alcohol to make it bearable," said Remus with a nod, as though it had been decided.

"The fruits--?" Severus almost sputtered. "Lupin, I said I was not going to help you. I have no interest in perpetuating your hooliganism."

"No?" Remus asked innocently as he pulled a thin roll of parchment from his inside jacket pocket and unrolling it to spread it on the kitchen table. "Because you see, I had a plan, elegant in its simplicity, really--"

Severus stared through narrowed eyes and wondered just how Lupin thought he was getting away with this and exactly why Severus was considering allowing it to occur. He hesitated to even look at what could only be the plan for a disaster sitting on his table... and yet, he did. And immediately began forming ideas on how he might make it work.

After a moment, Severus straightened and leveled another glare at Remus. "Leave the plan. I'll contact you tomorrow." Remus grinned hugely and thumped the back of his hand against Severus' arm, and Severus headed him off immediately. "I didn't say I was participating in your asinine plan and I certainly am not coming to your party."

"Quite alright," said Remus with a shrug. "That's more than enough."

###

Fifteen minutes later, Remus was toting a box full of jars of sludge that would become the base for the latest batch of Ooey Gooey Kablooey Gumdrops and was being shown out of Severus' home.

He thanked Severus for his help and waited for the door to close behind him to Apparate to the backroom of Weasley's Wizarding Wheezes. Adding the boxes to the inventory and filling out the correct entry in the ledger, Remus then promptly excused himself for an early break, went home and mulled over the soft leonine grace of words like 'asinine', 'hooliganism' and 'developmentally flawed' with his pants around his ankles, one hand braced on the bathroom vanity and on his lips, the warm, sibilant name of the last person on earth that he should be fixating upon as he had an incredibly satisfying wank.


	4. Tuesday

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Draco returns the books and almost has a conversation, Ron goes to work and has words with Tonks, Neville is the messenger and Severus begins an illustrious side career.

**Tuesday**

Ron was a creature of habit and his nature seemed to be working against him. His typical weekday morning routine was a leisurely one, but a routine nonetheless and thus susceptible to sabotage. As such, it was entirely possible that it was nothing more than coincidence that found Draco slipping in the back door of 12 Grimmauld Place just in time to catch Ron pouring his tea. It was also possible that Ginny plotted this to facilitate their 'getting to know one another' or that Harry had told Draco when best he could arrive to in order to maximize payback opportunities for what Ron had said on Saturday morning.

Whichever it was, it led to Ron's glaring, eyes narrow, as Draco shut the door behind himself and offered up a relatively cordial greeting in a tone that spoke of genuine amusement rather than mockery.

"Good morning, Weasley. Shouldn't you be at the salt mines by now?"

Ron actually snorted a laugh as he raked the fingers of one hand through his hair, the other still stirring his tea. Malfoy looked as surprised as anyone else might have, his eyebrows quirking up in utter confusion for the fleeting moment before he could school them back into submission.

"Salt mines were too damp for my liking. I decided to give it up and become Minister instead," grumbled Ron as he dropped the spoon onto the counter, lifted his mug and turned to lean on the counter. There was a very small voice in the back of his mind that was shouting about the fact that there only ever had been and there would always be only one answer for anything Malfoy had to say, and that should be, 'Sod off, Malfoy,' not witty commentary, even if he managed to look disgruntled while he delivered it.

Apparently it didn't do anything to keep Draco from venturing further into the kitchen, hands behind his back as he circled the table. "Sadly you might be a better candidate than anyone currently in the running," he griped. "And that's not meant to be praise for you."

"Sadly, I don't give a damn what that was meant to be," said Ron, finding that the spoon suddenly needed to be in the sink, which would put another two feet between he and Draco.

Not that it mattered, given that when he looked up again, he found that Draco had moved on what had to have been _silent sodding ninja feet_ and was standing far too close and looking far too pleased with himself as he smirked and murmured, "Don't you?"

In his life, Ron had no end of things for which he was grateful. One was that whatever else happened, he would always be taller than Harry. The other was that he would always be taller than Draco, who was also taller than Harry, which didn't seem right somehow, but there it was. (He'd been a little worried about Nev there for a bit, but fortunately that threat was past.) So as Draco stood about a foot away and was nearer to eye level than most, and he'd been caught off-guard, Ron had a great deal of trouble avoiding looking him in the eye. Which, as it turned out, had been as terrible an idea as he'd feared. His face flushed automatically, he sucked in a hard breath through his nose as his mouth moved but no sound came out for what seemed like an eternity until he finally managed to say, "Sod off, Malfoy. The hell are you doing here anyway?"

And all Draco did was keep smirking as he reached into the pocket of his jacket and produced two small leather-bound volumes that seemed to grow larger as they were removed, his eyes on Ron the whole time. "Returning Potter's books. I trust they'll be safe with you?"

Ron lifted his chin and pulled his shoulders back as he held out his empty hand for the books. "Yeah. That's what I do, thanks."

And then that bastard _ferret_ licked his lower lip. "So I've heard."

Having already come to the conclusion that he was officially screwed, Ron was forced to amend that to add 'sideways with a blast-ended skrewt' sometime between the _look_ and the lip-licking. Unfortunately he couldn't quite distinguish absolute rage from lust in the roar of blood at once rushing toward it in the former and leaving it for points further south in the latter.

Vaguely he wondered whether that might be hazardous to one's health, and was saved from having to act on either by Neville's entering the kitchen looking winded and sweaty, followed immediately by Ginny... who merely looked _awake_.

"Let it be known that even though his legs are longer than mine, today is the day that Neville Longbottom actually kept up with me," she said sounding just a little at a loss for air. She lifted the water bottle in hand to take a drink and paused, her eyes on Ron and Draco. "Hi."

Neville pressed a hand to his side as he waved her statement off with the other, completely oblivious of what Ron felt were palpable, crackling strands of tension running freely between he and Draco, currently facilitated by the conduit of the books held between his hand and Ron's, as neither had let go. "Morning," he huffed, walking over to the sink and right up behind Ron to reach into the cupboard for a glass. "'Scuse me. Water."

"I would've shared!" said Ginny a mite tonelessly as her attention was still on Ron, who shot her a look that telegraphed, _'Please Ginny, please, shut the hell up'_ as he drew the books close in one quick move.

"Didn't want to finish yours," said Neville as he retrieved and filled a glass.

"Well," said Draco with a wry smile. "My job here is done. If you'll excuse me-- Longbottom. Weasleys. Good day."

Neville nodded from behind his glass of water and offered up a wave. Ron mumbled, "Later," but it was Ginny that smirked at him as he walked away and sidled past her to go out the door.

The moment he was out of sight, Ginny's smirk widened hugely and she pointed at Ron as she said, "Oh," somehow making it a pointed declaration of _'i knoooooow about you and your sick little fantasy'_.

"Shut. Up," he growled, hackles up, sorry he'd ever thought her knowing might be helpful, as if he'd brought the scourge upon himself merely by suggesting it in his mind.

"Priceless," Ginny added with some amusement, stripping off her track jacket to hang it on the tall rack that managed to hold brooms and coats and hats enough for every permanent resident of the house.

"I _mean_ it," said Ron, slamming his mug in the sink and crossing to the rack himself. He shoved past her for his dark blue Auror's robes, swinging them around his shoulders and gesturing at the laces across the chest to tighten and tie themselves before turning his scowl on her again, not even noticing that he'd maneuvered the books around while he did so, not putting them down once. "Not a word."

Ginny shrugged far too innocently. "Not one?"

"Not. One." He looked up at the clock, and frowned, then back to Ginny just long enough to convey the full weight of his displeasure. "Hey, Nev?"

"Hmm?" said Neville from where he was leaning on the counter, breath apparently finally caught again.

"Give these back to Harry for me?" Ron said, holding out the books and walking them over in three quick steps. "He'll know where they came from."

"Oh, yeah sure. No problem," Neville nodded as he took them.

"Thanks, mate," mumbled Ron as he pulled his wand to Apparate, pointing it briefly at Ginny. "I mean it."

"Hey-" she said, dropping her water bottle on the table. "Do me a favor too and tell Tonks tonight works fine."

"What? Why?" said Ron, suddenly paranoid all over again.

"...because she and I only have three more days to make sure the party goes off without a hitch," said Ginny, as though it were the most obvious thing in the world. "Two if you want to count that nothing will be open on Friday anyway."

"Whatever. The hell does Tonks have to do with anything?"

"The party was her idea, genius," said Ginny, circling the room and giving him a wide berth as she made her way to Neville and stretched up to kiss his cheek. "Nice job. Also, First in the shower!" And with that, she disappeared up the back stairs.

Ron was suddenly ready to inflict his bloodrage on his partner, given his little sister was no longer within arm's reach.

"She knows there're more than one public in the building now, right?" grinned Neville, who looked as though he might actually be blushing.

"Yeah," said Ron, gathering his calm in order to Apparate without splinching himself. "She just enjoys her job as designated pain in the arse."

###

Neville exited the stairwell at the second landing and went directly to Harry's door though he still felt as though he ought to shower first. After he'd knocked, he stood patiently examining the titles of the books Ron had given him. The first, _On the Defense Against Mental Intrusion_ didn't seem a topic of interest to him at all, but the second, _Memorye and Thyme, A Legilimens' Botanical_ , immediately attracted his attention. Leafing through the pages briefly, he wondered how much of it was current and how it might add up to Sullivan's treatise on--

The next time he looked up, the door was open and Harry was grinning, dressed, though his hair was in complete disorder, meaning he was probably on his way to work, since that was its usual state. "Hi."

Neville practically jumped, book slamming shut. "Harry! Hi! I was just--" he relaxed a little and held the books out. "Sorry. Ron asked me to give these back to you."

"'S alright, Nev," said Harry, taking the books from Neville before asking for clarification. " _Ron_ said?"

"Yeah," Neville said and looked away, amused. "Sort of. Malfoy was by this morning-- it was more a polite growl."

"Ah, hell," sighed Harry, shaking his head. "I don't get it. They--"

"It's a family thing," said Neville with a shrug. "They've hated each other from before they knew how to spell their own names. It'll take a while."

"You'd think a _war_ might do it," said Harry.

"Dunno. You'd be surprised," said Neville, his eyes shifting to the books in Harry's hand again. "Can I ask what you're doing with the botanical? I mean, if you need help with plants of whatever kind, I could help?"

"Oh! Oh-- err," Harry said, his eyes darting to the book and back to Neville as though trying to decide what to say about it before finally deciding on a dismissive huff of laughter. "Eh. It's a long story."

"Alright," said Neville, not wanting to pry, though something in the shift of Harry's shoulders made him press just a little. "But if you change your mind--"

Just as he said that, Harry had said, "But I have time, if you want to talk about it later," and they both laughed.

Vindicated in his reading of Harry, Neville grinned. "Dinner? Me and Hermione have a long day ahead today, but I'll probably be free by seven? Here?"

"Yeah, that sounds-- wait!" Harry hesitated, glancing at the books one more time before answering. "I'm on duty tonight over at the House. Something about needing security for one of the new arrivals." Harry sighed, then perked. "Tomorrow? And we'll do The Sleeping Fireball. My treat."

Neville couldn't remember the last time he'd been to the quiet restaurant with dimly lit, charmed-Imperturbable booths that were more like nooks, but he knew as well as anyone it was a good place to talk and not be overheard. He agreed and backed up a step before turning and jogging up the stairs to his own room, thinking that if Harry kept insisting on feeding him, he might have to keep running manically as opposed to jogging leisurely, even after Ginny went back to camp.

The prospect was frightening. And somewhat exciting.

###

"You," said Ron, eyes narrow as he stalked through the Auror floor to where his and Tonks' desks faced one another.

"Yep," she said, feet in heaavy combat boots and propped on the desk, charming miniature quaffles through the tiny set of brass hoops that sat beside a multi-level array of file trays. "And you should know that any later and I would have had to start working without you."

With barely a sideways glance, Ron reached out and caught both mini-quaffles before they made another loop through the rings, crossed his arms and leaned on her desk. "This party was your idea?"

"Yep," said Tonks, flicking her wand at Ron's closed hand trying to recover her quaffles. His hand wiggled, but there were no balls forthcoming.

"What? Why?!" he asked, exasperation losing steam in the face of the fact that Tonks could care less, and losing credibility as his hand flopped around on its own.

"Because I like parties and Harry deserves one," said Tonks, flipping her wand harder. "As do you. You _need_ one."

"Tonks! Weasley! My office!" came a gruff voice from down the hall and Ron immediately stood straighter and opened his hand to release the Quaffles.

"Yessir," called Ron.

Tonks managed it too, following an "Owshite!" under her breath as the little balls hit her hard in the chest. She caught them on the rebound and rubbed at the spot with her free hand, her pink hair taking on a bit of a reddish tinge at the edges.

"I don't need a sodding party," Ron grumbled following her down the hallway toward Shacklebolt's office.

"Yeah, mate," she said, holding up the thoroughly smashed Quaffles so that he could see it over her shoulder. "You do."

###

Remus grinned at the brevity of the owl that reached him in the bowels of Weasley's Wizarding Wheezes, dyed flashing purple as a result of having made it past the wards and the 'out to lunch, back in an hour' sign on the door, but otherwise none the worse for the wear. Remus could only imagine the look on Severus' face when he saw-- then again it wasn't as if it were the first time his owl returned _improved_.

_Lupin,_

_We may be able to come to an arrangement. My home - 6 PM tonight._

_\--SS_

The note dissolved elegantly into wisps of gray smoke that filled his palm, overflowed it and dissipated into nothingness, and still, Remus grinned.

"Oi!" called a voice from the other side of the lab. "Tell the old bat we need more of the gum base, would you, mate?"

The other twin looked up from cauldronside wearing a pair of giant goggles and a grin of his own that spoke of mischief, destruction and general mayhem. "You'll never believe what it did when we combined it with the charms on the Animal Sound Zoo Gummies. The shite's damn near indestructible--"

"--smells like rotten treacle--" added the first twin, and thus began a two-and-a half sided conversation.

"--and can be shaped and reshaped indefinitely--"

"--all while imitating the sounds of whatever it's made to resemble."

"That part could use a tweak, tho', Freddy," added the twin that had to be George with a rueful nod.

"Aye, it's already made a few obscene noises might put a kink in some mum's knickers," agreed Fred.

"What's that look for?" asked George, arching an eyebrow at Remus, and Fred's head came up, too.

"He's got a look?"

"It's a goofy one."

"Oi, no calling him goofy - that's the Great Moony, git."

"And he's got a goofy look on his face!"

"Point. What's with the goofy look?"

Amused, Remus blinked, still not quite accustomed to one end of the conversation carrying itself for a bit before coming back to him. "I assure you, I am not _goofy_ ," he said, tugging his jumper off in favor of his own labcoat and goggles. "I can, however, help fix your animal sounds. Does it have an innate limit on expansion and contraction?"

George grinned manically at Fred, stuck his hand in the cauldron, tugged out a handful of what appeared to be sludge roughly the consistency of a gelatinous cube and tossed it to his brother, then took a corner and started walking backward. "Let's find out."

###

Another owl found Remus as he headed upstairs to open the shop, leaving the twins to unsticking goo from the whole corner of the lab.  


> _Remus,_
> 
> _Off to plot with subject number one over dinner. Don't wait up. Better, do. We should talk._
> 
> _-T_
> 
> _PS: Has Harry said anything to you about problems with Ron?_

Remus grinned hugely, murmuring, "Well done," as he flipped the sign and unlocked the door. He made his way back to the counter, straightening displays as he went, and once there, answered in kind.  


> _Tonks,_
> 
> _Good. I'm off to do same with subject two. Only dinner wasn't a given. May have to do something about it. At any rate, yes. I'll be there._
> 
> _\- R_
> 
> _PS: No, actually. Though I haven't spoken to Harry since last week. Is it serious?_

The owl came right back as he rung an adult with no children in sight, muttering about 'payback' and carrying a handful of U-No-Poo. Remus had sympathy for whomever had crossed him-- he'd been on the wrong end of that one before (pun completely intended).  


> _R--_
> 
> _YES, WE ARE FUCKING BRILLIANT. Don't be an arse-- take dinner with you; he won't be able to turn you down. Who could?_
> 
> _What did you decide to do to your mates over there?_
> 
> _\--T_
> 
> _PS: Huh. Dunno. He's on an edge so thin, I want to put him in tights and give him a tiny umbrella. Funny thing is, he's always a little on edge, but it's taken on... Dunno. _immediacy_ or something. I'll try and get it out of subject one._

Remus rolled his eyes, handed out some questionable candy to a bunch of children that were loud, rude and obnoxious (free of charge!) but saved the unadulterated Swirly Pop for the little girl that had asked him politely where to find fake kneazle poop and how much it would cost to send some to her brother at Hogwarts. He posted the poop (having charged the little girl a discounted rate to begin with) and gave his response to the same owl with instructions to drop it off on the way.  


> _T--_
> 
> _Of course, whelp. Chinese and a bottle of wine, no less. Sidecar of grilled fish for the cat. I may in fact have this under control if he says nothing that involves a string of growling consonants._
> 
> _Oh HO. Wouldn't you like to know?_
> 
> _\--R_
> 
> _PS: Alright, well. Keep me in the loop. I'll ask Harry if it comes to it. Hermione, maybe?_

When the owl came back this time, he had to stifle a barking laugh, drawing the attention of the nervous young man making his way toward the 'Adults Only' section. It cost Remus the sale, given that the boy skittered off immediately following, but it had probably been worth it.  


> _R--_
> 
> _Good plan, old timer-- not if you can keep from jumping him when he insults you using words from the the big book of _Ten-Galleon Words to Insult and Incite_ , you should be just peachy. Me, I'm relying on an old standard._
> 
> _Chocolate._
> 
> _Also, YES. Share. ~~OR DIE.~~ We're in this together-- don't make me do something you might regret._
> 
> _\--T_
> 
> _PS: Hermione as the source of trouble for him or information for us? 'Cos you know as well as I do that never went anywhere for a good reason. Either way, will do. May start _him_ on a chocolate IV, too. Stat. (Heh. Dad's telly.) Think about who we might get to keep him occupied at the party._

Remus had heard the backroom Floo blaze up, and one of the twins calling out about answering it. By the time received another response, the twins were making their way into the shop, shoving one another good-naturedly and looking overly pleased with themselves.

"Got it worked out, then?" Remus asked, tugging off his half-apron.

"Better," said the twin that Remus could swear was Fred, still sporting a black goo mohawk.

"Got ourselves a date for the big party," grinned maybe!George as he elbowed his reflection.

"Oh?" said Remus, finishing his last note of the day for Tonks and handing it to the owl that sat on the perch near the register and eyed his moving quill warily. "Who're the lucky girls? Err. People?"

Fred and George exchanged what could only be regarded as a self-satisfied leer and said in unison, "Person."

###

> _T--_
> 
> _Chocolate will get you far in this world, minx._
> 
> _Never forget I was pranking when your idea of funny was the word 'potty'. You would not win. Fortunately for you, I do in fact plan to share my information later tonight. Spare some energy for me, would you?_
> 
> _\--R_
> 
> _PS: Information, woman. I've got to get out of here if I want to be on time, but we'll do this later._

###

At 6:02 pm, Remus stood on the doorstep of Severus' home, exactly as he told Tonks he would - wine and a bag full of neatly stacked trapezoidal white boxes in hand. The severe and simple doorbell hadn't even stopped ringing when the door opened inward and Severus leveled the sort of glare usually reserved for itinerant salespeople.

"Come in," said Severus, sounding none too pleased, though Remus was not to be dissuaded. He inclined his head and murmured his thanks as he did. He noticed Severus cocking his head at the bags in Remus' hands and smiled as he half-held one up.

"Thought I'd bring provisions to the war room. It seemed only fitting that I should be repsonsible for the feeding," said Remus, every fiber of his being concentrating on playing the situation off. "I hope you enjoy Szechuan."

"Lupin," began Severus as he shut the door behind Remus. "You assume too much."

"I _assumed_ that you might like to eat," said Remus with a shrug. "The rest is pure speculation."

The midnight cat watched Remus carefully from a distance of no less than five feet away and Remus grinned as he pulled out the smallest box and held it out. "I even brought some for the cat." Clearly, food trumped any hint of dark dog in anyone, and the cat wound around Remus' ankles, shamelessly begging.

Severus pinched the bridge of his nose. "I had a suggestion for your plan," he said, still not looking at Remus.

Remus, on the other hand, had opened the little box and set it in the hallway for the cat. "Excellent. Let's talk about it." Without delay he took the bag directly to the kitchen, effectively forcing Severus to follow as he walked purposely, adding under his breath, "over dinner."


	5. Tuesday Night

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tonks meets up with ~~Subject one~~ her contact at 12G.

**Tuesday Night**  
Tonks eyed Ginny across the short distance from the corner of the short sofa in which she was currently sprawled and offered up the box of chocolate straight from Honeydukes' 'Sweets to Impress' shelf. She had Ginny's notebook open on her lap, a quill in her free hand and was honestly impressed.

"Mmph," she said, chewing and swallowing her mouthful of coconut trufle. "This is brilliant. You've thought of everything." Tonks used the quill to point to her temple. "Me, I had a very similar list in my head."

Ginny grinned back and took the box, her feet tucked neatly underneath her. "I find that serious chaos requires thorough preparation." She took a white chocolate caramel star and popped it into her mouth whole, leaving two little points showing between her lips. "That whole Gryffindor 'on three' stereotype pisses me off."

"Oi. Some of us rely heavily on that--" said Tonks raising an eyebrow as she marked an item off of Ginny's list. Certainly, this party wasn't one of those times, given she and Remus had a similar list at home, but she wasn't going to say so. Instead she turned a cocky grin on Ginny. "Plans are well and good, but sometimes you've got to charge in and tear shite up," she said with a shrug as she pointed to another item. "Alcohol was the first thing on the list, and it's bought and paid for."

"Mmm, see, I couldn't decide whether alcohol or food should go first," said Ginny, patting her hips. "I eat just like my brothers some days. 'Course if I did it all the damn time, my broom would probably quit the team due to cruelty and undue burdens."

Tonks snorted and circled the item that read, ' _Food- a lot; Where's open? Ask Mum?_.' "Yeah. I hear y--"

"Hold up--" Ginny interrupted. She sat up, licked her thumb and reached across the space between them to wipe it across Tonks' temple then flopped right back. "Ink. Sorry. G'head."

"--you," said Tonks, her eyes following the progress of Ginny's hand. She smiled then cleared her throat, "Thanks. Anyway. Dunno if we want to involve anyone's mums. Sure they'd make food... and then they'd hover and next thing you know they're walking around asking people if they're enjoying themselves."

Ginny gave a shudder and stretched her foot out to nudge Tonks' knee, somehow deciding that it was a good enough place to leave her foot propped. "Don't even wish it on us. As it is, the invitation list has gotten out of hand and I think my brothers are coming in from godforsaken corners of the globe just for the party. That alone might be sign enough to bring my mother down upon us."

"Charlie and Bill? Wicked! Haven't seen them in an age," said Tonks, aiming a tickle at Ginny's bare foot as though she weren't imagining doing far worse and less innocent. "When?"

"Tomorrow, far as I know," said Ginny with a giggle, kicking out half-heartedly at Tonks' hand. "Don't tell Ron. I wanted to surprise him."

"Not a word," smiled Tonks, grabbing hold of Ginny's ankle and settling it back on her own knee with a decisive point and a growled, "Stay," that made Ginny snicker again. "Speaking of that specific brother-- you notice him being a little off lately?"

"No, not a 'little off'," sighed Ginny, taking another chocolate and handing the box back with an offhand gesture. "A lot off. As in, he's got a pash on Malfoy that's probably making him want to die."

Tonks stared as Ginny put the heart-shaped raspberry truffle on her tongue and pulled her finger out of her mouth with a faint 'pop', using the somewhat surprising information as a good excuse. "Wow," she said, tone flat. Oh! The box. She took it back and tried to focus on what she wanted next. Yeah, _wow_ \-- those fingers--

"Yeah, 'magine? They'd either kill each other or never stop shagging," mumbled Ginny, shifting the candy from one cheek to the other. "Still. Way Malfoy was looking at him... I'd wager he's thinking he wants to give it a go."

"You're serious?" said Tonks, sitting up a little though she hadn't stopped unconsciously stroking the top Ginny's foot. Actually, right about when she sat up was about the point in time that she noticed what she'd been doing and it made her want to crawl right across the sofa and onto Ginny's lap. Valiantly, she resisted the temptation and resumed the petting as if nothing had happened.

" _Oh_ yes. Like he wanted to... dunno," said Ginny with the a hint of a smirk. "Crawl right over the books between them and settle it his way. If it weren't my brother we were talking about, I'd say it was hot."

Shite-- Tonks knew that sort of look. She was probably doing it herself right about now and she realized she wasn't planning on reining it in. Ginny was a straightforward sort of girl; Tonks might as well put it out for her to pick up and see where it went. "You're right," she said finally finding a hazelnut chocolate to destroy, taking a bite and catching Ginny's eye as she added, "That _is_ hot."

Ginny wiggled her toes and stuck her hand out for the box. "Party ought to loosen them up a little at any rate," she said as she tapped the notebook in Tonks' lap again. "What's next?"

###

Ginny watched Tonks go with a wave and the promise of an owl before Thursday with the things she'd settled on taking care of and a final count of reservations. She watched as Tonks Disapparated from the back garden, shut the door, reached up behind herself to grip the top of the broomrack and lifted her feet off of the ground with a squealing, "Heeee" sound.

"That good?" said Neville, poking his head in from the back stairwell with a grin.

Hitting the ground again with what resembled a hop, Ginny stormed right back into the main area of the kitchen. "Oh yes," she said with a grin that outshone Neville's easily, taking his face in both hands and planting a kiss on his face. "Ohhh yes."

Neville swatted her off and made a show of dragging her by the scruff of the neck to the table and shoving her gently into a chair, then set himself to making tea. "Talk."

###

Tonks popped directly into the kitchen of her and Remus' flat, laughing and pumping a fist in the air. "Remus!" she called out when she caught sight of his head popping up from his book where he was in his favorite chair.

"Y--" he said before she cut him off.

"I fondled her feet. And she let me. There was innuendo involved. And she wiped ink off of my face," said Tonks in a self-satisfied rush as she retrieved cold bottles from the icebox.

"I managed to get one genuine laugh and find out that he's proficient at the use of chopsticks," said Remus with a grin as he leaned back and set his book over his knee. "And the cat likes me. His name is Brutus."

Tonks roared a laugh as she sat on the arm of Remus' chair and handed him a bottle so that he'd have something to clink with hers.

"I also found out what's wrong with Ron. Apart from the what's usually wrong with him." She snorted taking a drink before adding, "And I say that with all love for the boy. Really."

"Oh?" said Remus, absently sliding an arm around her. "What's that?"

"Let's say we should have brought him in on our plot and added a subject three," said Tonks, leaning back against the wing of the chair.

"Oh no," sighed Remus, amused though sympathetic. "The poor lad."

Tonks snickered, holding up a finger around her bottle. "And that's not the half of it."


	6. Wednesday

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hermione has a visitor, Remus checks in on his commission, Draco is suddenly out of his depth, and Grimmauld is overrun by Weasleys, the only remedy for which is running far, far away.

**Wednesday**

At her desk, halfway between sitting and standing as she had been for about fifteen minutes as she wrote out a message that had extended onto a fifth square yellow sticky note, Hermione was oblivious to the quiet second person that crept up through her open office door.

"One larger bit of parchment might have done as well," observed Luna, head tilted toward the chain of sticky notes in question.

"Jesus!" swore Hermione with a start, dropping the pen (not quill) in hand onto destktop with a clatter.

"Oh! Him," said Luna, nodding. "He might be helpful, I suppose. I'm personally a fan of swearing on Ganesh."

Pinching the bridge of her nose, Hermione looked up, more businesslike than rude. "What are you doing here?"

The corner of Luna's mouth twitched upward. "Scaring the living shite out of you. You?"

Hermione laughed and flopped backwards into her chair. "Working. It's the kind of thing I do well."

"I know," said Luna as she sat carefully in Hermione's guest chair. "Neville says the early outreach program is coming along beautifully and even the Ministry can't find a thing to be bastards about."

"It is!" said Hermione, her eyes lighting up. "Luna, it's brilliant. You'd be amazed at how often the parents of a Muggleborn are more relieved than anything else that they're not going mad. I mean, my own parents spent ten years pretending I didn't make broccoli _literally_ disappear from my plate, can you imagine the grief we're sparing?"

"Hmm. You'd think they'd have learned just not to serve it," mused Luna. Hermione arched an eyebrow that Luna caught immediately, and she went on as though it had been her intention to begin with. "But we're all very proud of you both."

"Well, thank you," said Hermione, sitting up straight again to sign off on the note. "Now. What are you doing here?"

Luna smiled with a hint of a smirk and scooted back in her own chair in turn. "I came to let you know that if someone needs to use my room on Friday night, they're welcome to it, since I have somewhere else to stay."

"...Friday? Please. You know we have plenty of room. Besides, I'm not the one plan--" Hermione's confusion was nearly complete until she remembered that she was talking to Luna and tried to understand the statement accordingly. "Oh. OH!" She grinned, "And where exactly are you staying, praytell?"

"With Percy, if last night was an indication of things to come," Luna suddenly laughed. "I said 'come'."

Hermione was a grown woman, yes, and she was a gossiping-only-on-special-occasions sort of busy, serious woman who wore bad, if comfortable, shoes and didn't hold with cluttered bathroom vanities. She'd been what amounted to a field general through a bloody _war_ and her best friends were men (and Ginny)(and Luna) who'd subjected her to a hundred times worse and more crude. That said, her face flushed red as she covered her mouth with one hand and snorted an incredulous, giddy laugh. "You didn't?!"

"Did!" said Luna, rather pleased with herself in her matter-of-fact manner. "And! He's coming to Grimmauld rather than the Ministry party, but he said he wouldn't 'stay there and be subjected to his brother's shenanigans' if he stayed with me. So we'll have to go back to his flat, I'm afraid."

Her eyes wouldn't go any wider. Hermione blinked and took this in slowly. "He's ditching the _Ministry_ party. For _our_ party."

"Uh huh," agreed Luna brightly. "I'm very proud of him, too. Did you want to come out and spend your lunch shopping with me? I have to be back at the paper in... an hour and a half."

Hermione quickly folded the memo in front of her and stood, holding her arm out for her owl and digging her purse out of her desk with the other.

"Absolutely. I need details."

###

Back in their school days when Sirius wanted to drop in on someone unexpectedly, he tended to use the time-honored hop out of a tree, laugh at his target's having jumped ten feet out of their bloody skin, drop an arm around their shoulders and then proceed with the wheedling. Though Remus' heart tightened a little to think of his best friends in better days, it didn't come without the thought of just how badly what he was trying to do now might've been received. Not that he hadn't considered it then, too. Because he had-- oh, yes. It hadn't been more than a fleeting idea, really, but idea enough.

So there, twenty years later, he stood on the step of Severus Snape's home, knowing that if he'd tried to hop out of a tree, he'd likely be hexed into slimy bits before his aged, lycanthropic arse hit the ground. (Besides, Sirius and James had only ever pulled the tree bit off successfully, unless you wanted to count the time Peter tried and landed face first in Lily's cleavage, which had been brilliant for all of about the ten seconds it took disentangle them. _Then_ , she'd slapped the shite out of him.)

He was smiling at the memory when Severus opened the door, in shirtsleeves again rolled to the elbow, and a potions-spattered shop apron, not wasting any excess muscle exertion on a pleasant facial expression or even sparing a breath for a greeting. He tossed an apron at Remus and turned away from the door muttering, "If you're here to harass me, you may as well make yourself useful."

With a silent apology for the Padfoot and Prongs (and yes, even the Wormtail that died long before his skin thought to), Remus slipped the apron on and followed Severus in as he tied it off.

He wasn't sorry he was doing this; he was only sorry it had taken this long to stand up to the Marauders in his head, frozen in stasis in 1981 and less forgiving than the living ones might have been.

The cat meowed hopefully and followed Remus the whole way down to the lab door, where Remus stopped to scritch his head before a dark look from Severus sent the cat strutting in the opposite direction, determined to avoid the appearance of having been scared off.

###

In the year since the war ended, Severus had seen Remus... what? perhaps twice per month at most? Once for the Wolfsbane with occasional trips in between for supplies for the infernal _shop_. The arrangement served Severus' purposes quite well- he profited in both cash and research and he had a reason to interact with the wolf regularly, however briefly.

It was indeed possible that perhaps in the two days since Remus had begun to seek him out for this ridiculous plan, Severus had suddenly developed a mild infatuation that was both disturbing and precious; the stuff of cheap, neatly-resolved, romantic fiction.

What was more possible and in fact, the actual case, Severus had been nursing a sick fascination for the man for years, even when he'd been busy ruining Remus' chances of ever teaching again with one well-placed bit of information about his lycanthropy; even when they'd been forced to work too closely near the end of the war. Especially then. The difference between Severus and some stupid Gryffindor (or Draco, apparently) was that he knew better than to pursue the pointless fantasy. Realistically, even if by some freakish chance Remus was interested, it would never work, never be more than a fleeting moment of hedonism before things went to hell and even his comfortable daydream was destroyed.

Severus didn't have time or pleasant distractionary thoughts enought to spare that he could afford to lose one. Thus he held this one close and guarded it jealously. Or _had_ until the mongrel had taken it upon himself to invade his home and attempt to make him a _co-conspirator_ , to _bring dinner_ and _pour wine_ and _ingratiate_ himself with his cat.

...The _cat_ , for god's sake. Brutus didn't like _anyone_. Even the neighborhood watchdogs gave the surly bastard a three-foot berth. It was a large part of the reason he and Severus got along so well.

And yet, Severus could hear the bloody smile on Remus' face as he spoke as they made their way down the basement stairs.

"So you've made progress?"

"One could say that," said Severus, unamused. "One could also say that I've wasted my time for a juvenile reason and I ought to hand you what I have and wish you luck."

Remus blinked and had the audacity to look entertained as he crossed his arms and shifted. "Are you going to?"

"I might. Look at this," Severus said, handing Remus a notebook, opened to a page filled with meticulous notes and diagrams. He let Remus read for a moment before going on over his snickering. "I believe they've designed similar in the past, but I also believe my methods are superior, not to mention more durable."

"Severus, this--" Remus looked up, eyes practically shining. "It's brilliant."

"Hardly," said Severus, narrowing his eyes. "Infusing the Wolfsbane to include time-release anti-inflammatories, analgesics and marrow-replenishing solutions while retaining full potency was _brilliant_. This is a mere exercise in the ridiculous."

Remus had the nerve to look at him as though he might have been speaking in tongues. "Lupin? I trust you understood that. Have you been peripherally affected by the very notes on the infernal thing?"

"All that was your idea?" Remus asked in complete disbelief.

Severus leveled a look at him that called him any number of unkind synonyms for 'idiot', though said idiot seemed only fit to continue to appear surprised. "Yes. Apparently I am singular among my peers in that I have seen what the curse does from close proximity. Enough to feel that it needed improvement. Those I correspond with-- Let us say that they were eager to prove they _could_ , and not so much concerned that they _should_."

He'd said too much. Damn him straight to hell. Severus made a concerted effort to regain his look of narrow-eyed disdain, but he tucked away the look that Remus gave him in order to add it to his store of material for said pleasant dreams.

"At any rate, I'll have it for you by tomorrow evening."

"Come to the party," said Remus as if it were a statement rather than a request, and for a vague, fleeting moment the socially unacceptable teenager that dwelt in the back of Severus' mind wanted to crow about having been _invited_.

"Aboslutely not," Severus said, turning to the cauldron behind him. "You can stay and shred fluxweed or see yourself out."

After a long moment that was quietly dreadful for no particular reason that should matter, Remus was at his elbow, rolling up his own sleeves.

"Show me."

###  


> _Draco,_
> 
> _I trust my letter finds you well and keeping yourself busy and out of trouble. I doubt that this is the case, but it does not keep me from hoping it, you understand._
> 
> _I had resolved not to say anything about your latest appearance in the rag that the Wizarding world finds to be acceptable journalism, as it is your business entirely whom you choose to be seen with and who you choose to bed. ~~even if it is Potter, the visual of which still causes me to wish for swift death or blindness~~ Having said this, I can tell you that I know for a fact you are about to do something stupid. I could see it in your eye. You, boy, have a look that is much akin to a flashing beacon of intent for those who know how to read it, few of us though there are. For this reason, I am about to say something that you will never hear me say again, and you will never see again, given that this message will no longer exist once you've read it._
> 
> _Do it._
> 
> _Only the regret of not having done could be worse than the consequences otherwise. ~~For _you_ , that is.~~_
> 
> __
> 
>  
> 
> _As always, I am merely an owl away,_
> 
> _Severus_

Draco watched the note evaporate, perversely more unsure than he had been before. Severus commenting on the matter though he was not aware of the details somehow lent it weight and substance; made it more real and less of a game, and he didn't know that he could handle anything other than something he could _play_.

He dusted his hands off though there was no need and tried to resume work on his accounts to no avail.

###

It'd been a relatively slow day in the office, so to speak. Kingsley had sent Ron and Tonks out to have a look at the backroom of Borgin and Burkes first thing, though for once it wasn't to inspect the proprietor, but at the old bastards' request. Turned out there was a nest of boggarts suddenly descended on it, and with a nest came a queen that was so nasty, not even old Burke could quite get a handle on her.

Ron had never seen a spider so sodding, miserably huge, venomous and terrifying in his life. He supposed it might speak not so well of him that after all he'd been through, his boggart was still a spider, but that was another thing that he'd learned to be just fine with. He also suspected that he had learned to project a spider as his biggest fear, 'cos he'd be damned if boggarts started turning into his dead friends and family, and let people make of it what they would.

They'd actually had to kill the thing rather than subdue it, and Tonks gave him the satisfaction of letting him smash underfoot the tiny wind-up polka-dot chihuahua it had become once they'd dealt with it.

Alright, after _that_ , it had been quiet.

Ron dumped his cloak on the coat rack and loosened his boots, thinking he'd stop at the ice box for an ale, then maybe head to his room and--

"There's my baby brother," said a voice that could only be his brother. Erm. One of them. Of course, once the sinewy arms were wrapped around his shoulders and he was face to face with his brother Charlie, it all became clear. Somewhat. "God, look at you, I can't believe you're an Auror. You know it kills Mum half with horror and half with pride whenver she starts in talking about you, you little bastard."

"Hi Charlie," said Ron, patting Charlie's back. "The hell are you doing in these parts? Thought you were out at the reserve until next month?"

"Pansy told me about the thing Friday, Gin told me there was room at the house for a visitor, I took leave, and I'm here," he said with a shrug.

"...Pansy. As in Parkinson? As in Malfoy's little friend?" said Ron, brow knit. "Why would she tell _you_?"

"Are you sure you're old enough to hear this, lad?" said Charlie with a leer that immediately told Ron that he was not. And he said so. And then he took a beer from the icebox, threw it to Charlie, took another for himself, immediately opened it and drank what felt like most of the bottle.

Unfortunately, Charlie thought he was kidding. "She's amazing, mate. Witty, and sharp and just _cutting_ and brilliant. And she does this thing with her--"

"No, Charlie! Just-- no," said Ron, grimacing as he took another drink and suddenly coming up with a way to deflect the conversation. "Tell me about the reserve."

"Dragons, blah blah blah," came a third voice and Ron and Charlie both looked up wide-eyed as Bill came in from the sitting room, arm pulled tight around Ginny's shoulders. "Probably picked that little girl up with his 'wanna see my scars' line? Lame."

"Bill, hey!" said Ron, "What--?"

"Same story, different person doing the inviting, kid," grinned Bill, releasing Ginny to engulf Charlie in a huge, thumping hug. "Hey, Charlie."

"And as long as it wasn't Phlegm, I was perfectly fine with that," grinned Ginny. "Though you two are going to have to spend Sunday at the Burrow with the rest of us, you know. Mum won't let you get away from her that easily."

By now, Bill had moved on to squeezing the life out of Ron, which was also fine, given that Bill was the only person allowed to be taller than him. 'Cos, you know-- he was _Bill_.

" _Gin_ ," warned Bill. "Don't be evil. Wasn't her fault entirely."

Charlie snorted. "Shagging your best mate tends to put a damper on wedding plans, yeah, Billy?"

Ron wanted nothing more than to stick his fingers in his ears and make a lot of loud noise. He'd heard the story once. Hell, he had to work for the 'best mate' in question. He didn't need to hear it again.

"Shut up, boy," shot Bill with no fire behind it. "It was long overdue."

The door opened once again and Ron groaned unconsciously as Fred called out, "You're so right!" Or maybe it was George.

At any rate, the other came in on his heels, adding, "You simply cannot live without us."

"Oi-- who wants food?" said the first, and Ron couldn't help but laugh as they kept talking.

"Because we're starving."

"We would've stopped for take away."

"But you wouldn't have taken it from us anyway."

"Which is a good, smart move."

"Proves you've been paying attention."

Ginny rushed them and let them catch her. "Idiots one and two!"

"Baby snot! You've been missed!"

"How's camp?"

"Drills?"

"Hoops?"

"Quidditch gear?"

"...Mmmm. Quidditch gear."

"Plenty of pretty girls?"

Both twins leered as they added simultaneously, "'Nough to keep you busy chasing balls?"

Ginny opened her mouth to answer, but it was Ron that said, "Food sounds great!"

Bill's hand thumped between Ron's shoulderblades and he muttered, "You need to relax, kid."

"Food as soon as Hermione and Neville get here," said Charlie. "Hermione promised more Italian take away than we could eat in one sitting."

"Poor little thing," said one twin, occupied in tugging on Ginny's braid.

"We'll eat her out of house and home," said the other, who was fending off her swatting hands. "Where's Harry?"

"On duty," said Ron, pretending as though he weren't leaning into Bill.

"I thought that was yesterday," frowned Ginny.

"Tonight too," said Ron. "Turns out their new arrival has ex-friends that don't want to stay gone."

"As if he hadn't spent enough of his bloody life _on duty_ ," said Charlie with a frown.

"We're always missing somebody," mused Bill.

"Percy couldn't make it, either," Ginny said with a sigh. "He's _busy_."

"Read: he couldn't be arsed to lower himself," said one twin.

As the other opened his mouth to answer, Percy walked in, adjusting his glasses and speaking primly, "Read: He was _busy_ , but now is no longer. Contrary to popular belief, I can in fact put up with my siblings for short periods of time, though Merlin knows how, why or what miracle keeps everyone alive in the process."

Luna, Hermione and Neville were just behind bearing two huge boxes of aluminum trays of food, and while Bill moved to hug his brother, Luna smiled.

"I have a theory!"

Reaching back to take her hand, Percy quietly whispered over his shoulder, "Please don't." Hermione dissolved into giggles, Neville tore open a tray of bread and handed it to the nearest redhead in an attempt to hold off the impending feeding frenzy long enough for him to acquire plates and utensils, and Ron caught Hermione's eye and actually laughed, too.

Life could in fact be good some days.

"Hey! There's my girl!" exclaimed Charlie, and Ron looked up, eyes huge as Pansy Parkinson smiled as though she might be a real, breathing person (as opposed to being entirely made of snark and vitriol) and pitched herself at Charlie with what could only be described as a squeal of delight. The pit of Ron's stomach was suddenly churning, vicious in its reminding him that where Parkinson went--

"--Well. I'll stand in the corner and pretend that I'm not about to drown in a sea of garish ginger, shall I?"

\--Malfoy was never far behind.

###

It was true, Where one found Pansy out of the house, one could most of the time find Draco and vice versa. This would be because the Wizarding world liked to hold grudges, and though they'd been exonerated fully and carried Order of Merlins (First Class) just like most everyone else in the room, people didn't like them. They didn't like Pansy and Draco's last names, their families, their _history_ , and it had not a damn thing to do with who or what they were or had done.

As a result, yes. They did watch each other's back, just as they'd done from the time they were children. And so when Pansy had squealed and elbowed him and begged him to come to Grimmauld for dinner, he'd agreed... after attempting to talk, shame and/or bribe her out of it. He suspected that if she weren't so ridiculously infatuated with the dragon weasley, she might object on the same grounds he did - mainly that they'd be outnumbered in quantities that Draco couldn't remember since around the time of the last days of the war, and really, he didn't want to think about that just now either.

Truthfully, he might've left her to her own devices anyway, given she was just being grabby. After all, she'd get more than enough of her Weasley's company on Friday-- but apparently she wanted to make the most of his visit. Something about not having seen him in weeks. Draco was not impressed. Moreover, Severus' words rung in his ears, so to speak.

 _Do it_.

The man was mad. And also quite brilliant. And a total bastard. A very cautious, wily bastard, who apparently had Draco's best interests in mind, but a bastard nonetheless.

 _'Do it'_ , he'd said. What the sodding hell? And frankly, what the sodding hell would he know?

Still, faced with more Weasleys and Gryffindors than he could shake a stick at, his best friend in the lap of and feeding one, Draco had one option. A known evil-- yes. Excellent cover. Err. Reason.

"Weasel," he said, nonchalant as he sidled over to where Ron stood, apparently also trying to blend into a corner of the kitchen as his siblings sprawled throughout the sitting room and stairwells. "This is... loud."

"Welcome to my world," grumbled Ron, casting a sideways look at him that spoke of conflict so profound as to be a war zone.

"Is this really the sort of thing you grew up with?"

"If by _sort of thing_ you mean, family that loves you even though they're fucking batshit nuts the lot of them?" said Ron, leveling a look at him directly. "Then yeah. This is exactly like that. Only there's more beer and swearing 'cos Mum and Dad aren't about."

Truly fascinated in his horror, Draco nodded, peering about him as though he were an anthropologist on a distasteful mission. "It doesn't matter how many times I've seen it happen --which thankfully are few-- it never ceases to amaze me."

"Yeah?" said Ron, stepping up the challenge in his voice. "And why's that?!"

 _Do it_ , said Severus in the back of Draco's head, and he shook it slightly. "Because-- it doesn't seem as though it should work so well. And yet, it does, and even your prude of a brother was taken back into the fold with barely a blink for the saying of 'sorry' and a slap upside his head," Draco said, realizing that he'd let the Severus voice distract him while he said something so very true, it hurt to consider.

Ron was staring. Draco's stomach roiled, angry that this game had grown out of hand.

"Yeah," said Ron, pulling away as if had stung him, too. His path, however took him only as far as the ice box, from which he pulled two more bottles and handed one to Draco. "Last one for the night. Long day tomorrow." Draco murmured thanks and Ron went on, his voice a little unsure. "You um. About sick of the noise?"

"Oh my god yes," said Draco, making it sound as if it were one long word before taking a pull of his ale.

Ron smirked and looked around in a manner that was anything but surreptitious, then hit the side of a cupboard with a fist. A compartment slid open from a spot previously hidden from view, and he pulled out a small box quickly before shutting it again. "Come on," he said, cocking his head and taking box and beer up the back stairs.

Draco, much to his own despair, followed.

###

Ginny kept her eye on Ron as he popped open his not-so-secret stash of chocolate and chessmen and led Draco up the back stairs, willing to bet he was headed for the library and quietly congratulating him in her mind.

Then there was something gooey and sticky crawling down the back of her shirt and as she contorted wildly while the twins snickered and Charlie roared his approval. "Swear to god, if you animated your leftover noodles and sent them marching down my shirt, I will --BLEECCH! Aw, HELL-- kill you dead!" Ginny shrilled, reaching ineffectually over her shoulder and then under and around her back.

DEAD.


	7. Thursday

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ron tries to beg off of the party and the truth comes out -- err. One of the truths, at least. Neville sort of gets his dinner, Hermione gets a cryptic green light and tries to issue a sensible warning, and Remus has no luck.

**Thursday**

Ron cornered Harry in the sitting room as soon as he got home from work (earlier than usual because of the impending holiday) and skipped over every manner of pleasantries to get straight to, "I can't be here for the party." Harry furrowed his brow, and Ron went on unnecessarily. "See, it's because I have this thing... something... that needs doing and so I won't be here. Technically. So--"

"Whoa - hold up--" said Harry, clearly concerned. "You alright, mate?"

"Fine. It's just-- I'm sorry, I wanted to let you know--"

"There you are!" exclaimed Hermione as she entered the sitting room, looking as though she hadn't seen the two of them in eons. She walked all the way into the room and hugged Harry and then Ron, talking all the while. "I've been looking all over. Listen, about tomorrow--"

Ron hugged back, but then pulled away to hold her at arm's length at that. "Hi!"

He held on as almost simultaneously, Harry said, "He says he's busy," still looking confused.

"Busy?!" exclaimed Hermione, oblivious to the fact that Ron was still holding her securely nearly up on her toes. "How? It's a _holiday_ ; you couldn't possibly be working because Kingsley promised he'd make sure you were clear. Could you let me go, please?"

"Busy," confirmed Ron releasing her, though finding himself at a loss for what to do with his empty hands. "Sorry." He decided on crossing them over his chest.

"You have to be here," said Hermione, leaving no room for argument as her hands gravitated automatically to her hips. "Maybe at first it was about a stupid, useless party, but now it's a show of solidarity and an important step toward showing that Harry doesn't need Ministry validation and he won't blindly support their cause until things really start changing for the better."

"There'll also be alcohol in large quantities," observed Harry as if in deep thought, cracking a laugh as Hermione smacked him in the chest with the back of her hand.

"Yes, that too," said Hermione with a smile as Harry batted her hand away. "And I for one will need more than a few stiff drinks to deal with the crowd. But I'm going to be here. And you should be too."

"Yeah, the _crowd_ is exactly what I don't want to deal with," muttered Ron. "If it was just you two, and maybe Nev, Gin, whoever, sure. But this... I mean, it's everyone. All of bloody Gryffindor and half of everyone else we know or went to school with. And _Malfoy_."

Harry and Hermione rolled their eyes nearly in unison. Hermione said dismissively, "Oh, come on, Ron, that is no excuse. You got along just fine last night."

"Besides," added Harry, "Malfoy'll probably show for ten minutes to say he made an appearance at the big party and then run off once Pansy's found Charlie."

"Bollocks! And if he does, I'll beat his arse myself," Ron said, displeased at the very idea. "He can't just wander off from _your_ party-- 'cos... you know..." Neither Harry or Hermione seemed to know, and so Ron was forced to finish the sentence. "...you're attached, sort of. Or as attached as you get to anyone but us these days. Hell, he _comes back_."

"You seriously think I'm sleeping with Malfoy?" Harry said, just as Hermione said the same, substituting 'I'm' for 'he's'.

Ron tilted his head, arching an eyebrow at Harry and trying to sound convincing. "I told you, I don't care. I won't go berserk if you admit to it." Ron might break a dish or a vase or a piece of furniture next time Harry wasn't around, but he could probably restrain himself for short periods of time.

"Look, I'm not, alright?" Harry said with a sigh, scrubbing a hand through his hair. "Remember when Moody made him teach me Occlumency? Remember what I told you about backlash and seeing into each other's heads? Well, see-- Moody wouldn't let up, and I felt so guilty about failing at it before; like I had to prove I could, and Draco-- he felt like he had something to atone for..."

"I remember," murmured Ron, but Harry went on.

"Yeah, and we picked into each other's heads all night long more often than not until I _did_ get it right and by then... there was... yeah. Very little of our lives that the other didn't know. It's hard to let that go. When someone else sees things you can't... couldn't even put into words... you either want to run screaming or you have to get comfortable."

"Oh," said Ron, under his breath, which he struggled for, now feeling like even more of a tool and a bastard for lusting after someone that Harry was so deeply attached to.

Harry cracked a small wry smile. "Oh, it gets better. Apparently we sort of... I don't know. _Broke something..._ So-- yeah. When things get _loud_ in his head, I can um. Sort of hear it. And vice versa."

"I didn't know that part,"said Hermione quietly. "It makes sense, though."

Ron stared open-mouthed, his voice flat when he finally did speak. "You can hear what Malfoy's thinking without trying."

"No! God, imagine?" laughed Harry, still looking a little caught out. "Nooo. It's just... when one of us gets really angry, or stressed or... the opposite... it's like hearing a faint echo of the feeling. It's sort of creepy."

"Fascinating," murmured Hermione, though Ron did nothing to hide the accusation in the question that he overran her with.

"And you didn't think to tell us?"

Harry shrugged, the lines of his forehead beginning to crinkle and form his angry/hunted face. "I didn't want to talk about it. I've only ever thought of telling Nev yesterday, and I didn't end up getting the chance."

"So what, you just invite Malfoy over for the night to read each others' minds and stay current?" said Ron with as much sarcasm as he could muster, chin up as though he was digging in for a fight.

"No, actually," Harry shot back peevishly. "We drink and imagine how nice it must be to be alone in our heads for once. And then we work on making it stop. It used to be clear as a bloody bell, and now it's more of a muffled thud. I'd call that progress."

"...Oh," said Ron, eyebrows nearly crawling off of his forehead in an attempt to look suddenly better informed.

Hermione, who had been pinching the bridge of her nose and letting the pissing contest play out, grumbled, "Yes, _Oh_. I swear. You're both still fourteen some days." She sighed and dropped her hands to her hips, her recrimination for Harry consisting only of, " _You_ could have asked for help," hissed in his direction before refocusing on Ron. "As for you, you're not getting out of this party. If it's a hot date, bring them along, if not, you've got us and so help me if I have to tie you to a chair and stick a hat on your head myself."

"You know she will," said Harry, scratching the back of his neck and looking away, tongue in cheek. "Not like she hasn't done it before."

Ron's face immediately flushed a violent shade of Weasley red. She _had_. And Harry had been there. And there had been a lot of nudity immediately following. What? They had thought they were going to die. It's what people do when faced with their own mortality. Usually in isolated pairs, yeah, but he, Harry and Hermione had been sharing a brain since the time they were eleven; surely that had to count for something.

Given the awkward silence and shuffling of feet, they were all thinking the same thing. Hermione, as always, could be counted upon to clear her throat and make the wordless declaration that it was time for the conversation to move on. As such, she did, saying, "Right. Sorted. Ron's coming to the party." She took Harry's hand and walked him to the kitchen mumbling about tea, incorporating her other famous strategy-- not giving anyone the chance to argue and sound stupid in the face of being hopelessly outmatched.

"But--" said Ron in a valiant attempt to defy her, but the swinging door shut behind them and even his dirtiest glare did nothing to bring her and Harry back. He could go after them and continue the discussion in the kitchen, but there was no point. He wouldn't win-- two against one was usually a bad sign for whomever was the 'one'.

Damn the 'two' straight to hell. And Malfoy too, now that he really wasn't shagging Ron's best friend and theoretically free to shag _him_ , because there would surely be death and dismemberment following any attempt on Ron's part to make that happen, and he wasn't sure he could resist.

###

"Come to the party," said Remus as the door opened, not giving Severus a chance to say anything first.

"You're out of your bloody mind," Severus said as he stepped back to let Remus in.

"Not at all," said Remus, ducking his head in acknowledgement as he entered. "They wouldn't let me roam the streets if I were."

Severus shut the door a little more loudly than he needed to. "On the contrary. I know of several others of your ilk currently Auroring, do-gooding and _teaching_ , and yet no one's made a move to lock them away. More's the pity."

Remus paused in his progress down the dim hallway and turned, laughing. He didn't care that the sentiment was probably serious for the most part-- it was just funny. Of course, given that Severus was following at his usual brisk pace, turning in the short, narrow hallway resulted in his ending up face to face with Remus not half a step away. Reminding himself to steady, Remus tilted his head imperceptibly, eyes full of mischief and darting purposefully to Severus' mouth and back, so quickly it might not have happened. "Point. But they'd come for you, next."

All he seemed to earn was another glare, and the growl of that rough velvet voice biting through the space between them, surprising Remus yet again with its capacity for cutting humor.

" _They_ could try," said Severus as he held Remus' eyes for a second longer and then brushed past him.

###

Neville was in no way offended by the owl he'd received from Harry the afternoon previous. He knew as well as anyone in the house that Harry's job was unpredictable at times, especially when they were depending on him for security rather than maintenance. The message had said something about having had to sit up and keep watch, but he'd promised to be home Thursday night so they could try again.

Truth be told, Neville _was_ disappointed but he understood. The people at the halfway house needed Harry more than he did, even though some days it didn't seem like that was even possible.

Yes-- just to be different, Neville was well aware of this fact, and was for the most part not disturbed by it. But Harry was trying to find his way in the world and he didn't need Neville complicating that. Once he _did_ work it out, Neville would still be around-- after all, he'd more or less moved in here, hadn't he?

After he sent one last owl to the latest Wizarding match for the family of a newly-identified Muggleborn, he sighed in relief at the temporarily empty state of his inbox. He'd already convinced Hermione to go home after her last appointment of the afternoon, and it was a quick thing to lock up the tiny storefront office and Apparate into the back garden of 12 Grimmauld. Home.

Pausing in the back entryway to ditch his jacket and shoes, a penchant he blamed on Ginny, though it might have been equal parts that and rebellion against his Gran's overly proper ways. Either way--

"Hey," said a voice familiar enough to bring an automatic grin to Neville's face, flagging only somewhat when he looked up to see just how tired Harry actually looked.

"Hey yourself," said Neville, straightening up and shoving his shoes against the rack with one foot. "Alright, Harry?"

"Yeah," said Harry, dragging a hand through his hair. "Long couple of days is all."

"Get you something?" asked Neville as he circled around the table and behind Harry's chair, squeezing his shoulder as he did.

"Nah, 'mfine. Hermione made tea, but then Ginny dragged her off for 'last-minute errands'," said Harry. "Should be some left--"

"Uh-huh," grumbled Neville, peering sideways at Harry. "Have you eaten?"

"Sure, earlier," said Harry, punctuated by a yawn. "I'm sorry about last night, though."

"Yeah," said Neville, already pulling leftovers from the icebox and setting them on the counter. "You missed it. Got a little loud-- pretty much a party in and of itself, but fun. Good to see everyone."

Harry waved that off. "I heard, yeah. But I owe you dinner. I wanted to, it's just-- huh?"

Neville set a plate of leftovers recently hit with a Warming Charm in front of Harry. "Dinner. Don't worry about it," said Neville as he turned and replaced the containers in the icebox and brought the bread back to the table with him along with his own plate. One more short trip for his mug and then he sat down at the corner adjacent to Harry's seat. "Worked out, yeah?"

Harry eyed the plate of lasagne, picked up his fork and snickered, "Guess it did." Neville watched him take a bite, cracking a huge grin as Harry's eyes rolled up.

"Oh, alright, this is wicked."

They ate in comfortable silence for a while, Neville still watching enough to catch Harry almost nodding off.

"You weren't kidding about sitting up all night, were you?" asked Neville as he selflessly rescued Harry from stabbing himself with his fork.

"No," said Harry, rubbing a hand over his face. "It's just... this new girl..."

"Oh?" said Neville as he sent the dishes off to wash themselves, concerned and yeah, fighting off the so-very familiar twinge of jealousy, though he knew it wasn't about _that_.

"Lot of problems. Bad enough that I had to babysit the wards and fight off a damn _shade_ ," said Harry, who waved it off again and stood. "Should be taken care of, though."

Neville cocked his head. "Get some sleep, Harry."

"Yeah," he said with a smile as he thumped Neville's arm. "Thanks, mate." Harry headed toward the stairs and stopped to turn his smile back on Neville. "I still owe you dinner, though."

"Party's tomorrow," said Neville, arching an eyebrow.

"Saturday, then," said Harry with a shrug. "If you're free."

"When am I not?" said Neville in a tone of gentle self-deprecation, starting a little as Harry answered quickly.

"Beats the hell out of me why," he said. "My luck, then. 'Night."

Neville watched him go and wished he hadn't already re-formed that statement in his head a hundred times, sure he was only taking it the wrong way.

He probably was.

###

Remus leaned on the kitchen counter as he had when he'd first tempted Severus with the idea on Monday, worried that he might not pull this off the way they'd planned. It had seemed to go so well, even though he knew from the start that a party wouldn't be the way to lure Severus out-- he was the sort of man most comfortable in the quiet of his lab; of his home, undisturbed and in his element. He wanted to say that he had no idea what he and Tonks had been thinking when they'd devised this plot, but that was patently untrue. They'd been thinking with their nether regions and firewhiskey from a point of view twenty years out of date... for him, at least.

But Remus was determined now, and even if he couldn't manage this bit of badly-devised plotting, he wasn't going to give up. He would just have to come up with a new plan... and resign himself to having lost the bet with Tonks, because there was no way she would fail, given what he'd heard this week. Which was fine. He'd waited twenty years-- he could wait and come up with something with which to harass Severus next week.

"Lupin. Are you listening?"

Ah. Shite.

"I'm afraid not, Severus," said Remus with a small grin. "I was distracted."

Severus appeared highly unimpressed. "I _said_ , this should be enough to keep the cretins dosed all evening should you so desire. The effects will be greatest within the first half hour, but you could theoretically continue to administer it once every two hours or so with no ill effect."

Remus grinned and shook his head. "Truly, you are amazing. Are you sure you don't want a research and development job with Weasley's wizarding Wheezes?"

The bottle and a slip of parchment were slipped into a box that wrapped itself in brown paper, and Severus took two slow steps in order to hand it to Remus from unexpectedly close proximity. "You couldn't afford me," Severus said with the barest hint of a smirk, and Remus would have fallen out of his chair if he'd been sitting.

"I-- would get a second job," said Remus lamely, adding unthinkingly, "in a heartbeat." It wasn't until it was fully out of his mouth that he kicked himself mentally. Hard. With steel-toed boots. God damn it all, he'd never had to be the smooth one.

Severus started back, eyebrow raised and smirk gone. "That _might_ do it," he said, and then was suddenly occupied in clearing the things pertinent to the box that Remus was holding off of the table.

"...Thank you. I--" Remus nodded to himself. Right. He was definitely not giving up yet, not when-- sodding hell, what had that been? Was that innuendo? Had it been _flirting_ , for god's sake?

"Have you changed your mind about tomorrow yet?"

###

"--So, I thought I'd let you know," said Hermione, actually sounding a little nervous, twisting the strap to the string bag slung on her shoulder and full of miniaturized party supplies as she and Ginny made their way down the street in a Muggle part of town. "I mean, I don't exactly go around advertising who I'm seeing at any given point in time, and you if anyone--"

"Please," said Ginny dismissively, carrying a rucksack bulging at the seams with the same. "The _Prophet_ may make everything about Harry, but I know better. And I have reliable sources."

Hermione nudged her elbow. "You've been spying on me?"

"Not _you_ specifically, but camp can be a little dull and weird without you all," said Ginny with a shrug and a smirk. "The intelligence I receive just makes me feel closer to home."

" _The intelligence you receive_. Please," scoffed Hermione, though she couldn't help but be amused. "More like the gossip Luna and Neville bring you. Anyway," she added with a resolute inhale. "About--"

"--Yes. Of course it's fine. More than fine." said Ginny, as though it were the most obvious answer in the world. "It was a long time ago and I'm not worried about it and you shouldn't be either. Knock yourself out."

Hermione made to answer but was cut off by a tinny, metallic tone that compelled Ginny to suddenly hold a finger up and demand, "Hold on." She pulled her mobile from her pocket, flicked it open, scrutinized the screen for a moment, then laughed before jabbing at the keys in turn.

"Interesting message, then?" said Hermione, annoyed, though studying Ginny's face, now lit by more than the wash of bluish light from the tiny screen.

"Heh. Tonks," Ginny said, still picking at keys.

"Oh?" Hermione said, smirking as she crossed her arms, suddenly sure she was for the most part nonexistent to her friend.

With a self-satisfied grin, Ginny hit the 'send' key and flipped the phone shut. "Yeah. She's looking for a status on our mission."

Hermione shifted to emphasize the bag hanging from her shoulder. "And did you tell her that we're done and on our way home with time to spare?"

"Hell, no," said Ginny emphatically. "Told her I'd rather share that sort of sensitive information in person."

Rolling her eyes skyward, Hermione set her hands on her hips. "Ginny. They just broke up _last weekend_."

"Pfft," said Ginny, waving it off in an unconscious imitation of Tonks. "That's been coming for practically forever. You know as well as I do they--"

"Still!" said Hermione, scandalized and yet impressed despite herself.

"Still nothing. Besides. She brought me chocolate and pet my foot and is dropping hints about a mile wide," said Ginny, arching an eyebrow at Hermione. " _Chocolate_ , Hermione. The good kind."

"You are so easily bought," Hermione said, shaking her head with no real malice. "And you had better be sure about what you're doing, because a lot of friends could get hurt if you're wrong or--"

Lower lip in a full pout, eyes narrow, Ginny's mobile went off again and she held a hand up at Hermione to glance at the screen. "Hold that bitchy thought. Hello? Oh, hey, hi!"

Hermione watched the pout recede entirely, watched her go from petulant to snickering, hip-shifting, skin-crawly contentment in the space between one word and the next and dropped her hands back to the strap of her bag. Ginny agreed to meet Tonks and give the report over coffee and hung up.

"'Wrong or screwing around', is that where you were?" she asked Hermione, pout back in full effect.

"No," said Hermione, faintly amused. "No, I know you're not 'screwing around', now."

"Because, it's not like we're the most serious people in the world," Ginny went on. "Things go badly, we chalk it up to a bit of fun and move on."

"That's not going to happen either and you know it. You are so hung up on her, it's..." Hermione threw her hands up and exhaled a huge sigh.

"What?" asked Ginny, voice starting to crawl up a notch.

Hermione hugged her close for a moment, then pulled away and shook her head. "Familiar. And as much as I love her, too, there's not a question as to whose arse I kick if you get hurt this time. So don't." She didn't usually get involved in the romantic affairs of her closest friends, honestly, nor did she make idle threats. Hell, she normally wasn't involved in planning parties, much less involved in romantic affairs of her own. It'd just been a strange week.

Ginny stared at her, and didn't argue when Hermione took the bag off of Ginny's shoulder as well and said, "Go have coffee."

"Hermione--"

"Go."

"--Me too, yeah?"

"Yeah," Hermione grinned, jogged up three steps and into the darkened doorway of a closed shop and Disapparated.

###

"No, Lupin, and do not expect that to change," said Severus as he carried the things he had brought upstairs back down to the lab, expecting that Remus would follow. 'Mortified' was not the right word for how he felt about what he'd dared do and say, nor was 'shocked'. 'Disbelief' might cover it more ably. 'Embarrassed that he'd thought to indulge his fantasy with any sort of conscious action' was another.

"Can I help you with that?" Remus said as he did in fact follow, and Severus shook his head resolutely.

"I am _fine_ , thank you," he said, biting off every syllable to make clear just how unnecessary the overture was.

"Am I allowed to express my thanks, at least?" said Remus as they reached the basement lab, the door opening automatically for Severus but requiring an extra word to allow Remus in as well.

"Belated though it may be, yes," muttered Severus, setting the things down onto a pristine work table and finally deigning to charm them to replace themselves properly.

"Thank you," said Remus, leaning against the doorframe. "You're going to make a lot of people laugh very hard, and on a day like tomorrow, they'll need it."

Severus wheeled on him. "Wonderful. I've always wanted to be a _joke_."

Remus had the nerve to look pained as he straightened up. "That's not--"

"You're welcome, Lupin," growled Severus, arms crossed tightly. "In case you missed it, that was your dismissal."  
  
Jaw set tight, Remus nodded. "That it was," he said with the nerve to look... what was that? _Hurt_? Damnable wolf.

Severus said nothing further as Remus turned and retreated up the stairs, bracing his hands on the work table once he was out of sight, waiting until he heard the door shut upstairs before kicking it viciously until he heard something crack.

###


	8. Friday Afternoon

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A sort of countdown to the anti-party and (almost) everyone has a story to tell.

**Friday Afternoon**

Ginny hurried from the public Apparation point down Diagon Alley to Sclera Brothers, the clock over the Leaky Cauldron proclaiming it to be 2:05. She broke into a trot, weaving between small knots of loud, cheerful witches and wizards and temporary chairs and tables, while most of the shops were dark and sporting signs that read, "closed for the holiday".

Not even breathing hard when she arrived, Ginny saw Tonks already talking to the burly clerk.

"I'm sorry, mate-- she'll be here any-- oh!" said Tonks, face splitting into a grin as she pointed back at Ginny, "What'd I say?"

"'Lo love. Sorry I'm late," Ginny said cheerfully, her eyes straying to Tonks more than anything else. Merlin, she was in trouble, but _she_ was not her brother; she could actually play it off.

"...I know you," said the clerk, with cartoonlike recognition. "Aren't you-- Weasley?"

Ginny grinned and offered up a wave. "That's right. One of many, sir," she said, then returned her attention to Tonks. "What are we picking up?"

"This box, that keg and--" began Tonks, only to be overrun again by the clerk.

"Nah-- the new Chaser? For Holyhead? Crikey, you're amazing!"

"Oh! God, thank you! You think so?" said Ginny with the air of suddenly having made a new best friend. "Where'd you see me play? I've only ever been to training--"

"M'brother's the assistant coach for United an--"

"The scrimmage last week!" said Ginny, so, so pleased as she turned her grin on Tonks. "We cleaned the pitch with them."

"Hey, this may seem weird, but are you, um, seeing anyone?" asked the clerk and Tonks suddenly stepped in between them.

"Yes. Absolutely, she is."

###

 _'Are you seeing someone', my ARSE,_ were the exact words that went through Tonks' mind as the great oaf tried to take apart a week of hard work and an eternity of longing at the seams. Now, granted, he didn't have as much a chance as all that, but it was the principle of the thing. Tonks could hear in her head the rest of the exchange as clear as day: _'why, no! I am not' 'well what about me?' 'oh! well come to my party and make Tonks have to hurt you and possibly lock you in a closet!' 'oh that sounds brilliant!' 'oh good! then we'll talk if you survive, for I am oblivious to her charms!' 'For the chance at an arse as fine as yours, that sounds fair!'_

Tonks didn't need that sort of trouble this close to the goal. Not at all. It was time for drastic measures.

"I am?" asked Ginny, suddenly hipshot, arms crossed and eyebrow arched.

It was time for full and unexpected disclosure. That and Tonks couldn't stand to stare at the shine of the gloss on her parted lips one more second without finding out if it was cherry or watermelon.

"Oh yeah," said Tonks, taking a step toward Ginny that practically swaggered. "Pretty girl, fun as all get out. Clumsy too, but you know, spent a week working and sending charming owls and creeping and plotting to set conditions up just right to catch hold of you and convince you that she might be worth your time."

"And is she?" said Ginny, rooted to the spot and clearly determined not to lose this round of chicken as Tonks came right up into her personal space. _That_ was fucking _hot_.

"Yep," said Tonks, nose twitching.

"Prove it," Ginny said with an arched eyebrow that made Tonks want to slap the cocky grin off of her face.

Instead, Tonks had nowhere to go but forward, and such, grabbed hold of Ginny's jacket with one hand and tugged her closer, the other sliding around the back of her neck and into her hair, her mouth crashing hard onto the slightly-taller Ginny's and --oh my god--discovered that it was in fact mango-flavored lipgloss.

The clerk groaned and muttered, fading into the haze of background noise and paranoia in the split-second it took for Ginny to respond, and when the slim, warm fingers of one hand landed on the bit Tonks' collarbone peeking through her shirt, there was nothing at all left in the world except Ginny (who was very much not oblivious after all) kissing back.

Eventually, since the clerk wasn't about to interrupt them, they did in fact split apart when they had no choice, both grinning stupidly, Ginny's hands around Tonks' middle and up under her puffy jacket.

"Good point," breathed Ginny, her cheeks flushed pink.

"I have a lot of those," said Tonks, having some problem keeping from resuming the public snog.

"We should get the alcohol back to the house," said Ginny, in a better position to be reminded, given she could still see the clerk staring, probably.

"Yes," agreed Tonks, her thumb running idly along the side of Ginny's neck. "I'd like to have some more of this conversation once we get there, if that's quite alright."

"You should know this conversation is the only one I'm interested in having tonight," said Ginny, with a look that made Tonks feel as though she were melting into puddle.

"You should know that I've been looking forward to this conversation for quite some time," murmured Tonks.

"You should both know that unless this conversation involves immediate and mututal nudity, I'd like you to take your order and go, 'cos I've got to get out of here and have a bit of a moment to myself before the festivities in the Alley," said the clerk in a curious mix of amused and put out.

Tonks grinned and finally convinced herself to take a step back. "Right. Sorry about that, mate. I--"

Unfortunately the second step back took her directly into and over the miniaturized keg and onto her arse at his feet.  
"--Ow."

Ginny did not immediately rush to her side in concern. She was pretty much occupied laughing her own arse off.

###

At about half two, Hermione was stalking through 12 Grimmauld Place looking a little more stressed than she had any right to look, given it wasn't her party and she wasn't the one that was supposed to be doing the organizing. When she heard a crack downstairs immediately followed by another, she assumed that it was Tonks and Ginny back with the drinks and rushed out to meet them. She was met instead by the two of them exchanging a look over the still-miniaturized keg that stopped her in her tracks. Before she could even say anything, they were kissing with a frantic sort of gradual build that made Hermione's face flush a dozen shades of pink, knowing exactly what sort of activity required that kind of kissing as a prelude.

Any other day she would have turned around and gone right back into the house, but --and it was terrible to say, she knew-- she had things to do and she didn't have time to take over the set up on their behalf. It had been _their_ bloody idea, anyway. And Hermione had a damned _date_.

And god help her, Parvati was coming over early to do her hair.

"Excuse me?" she ventured to no avail. "Gin? Tonks?"

Nothing.

"HELLO?!" she said at high volume and Ginny and Tonks finally looked up, both flushed and breathing hard.

Tonks' hand lingered on what looked like Ginny's breast on the side furthest from Hermione for a split second longer before she yanked it back as if burned, turning her 'o' of surprise into a winning grin.

"Wotcher, Hermione!"

"Hello," said Hermione in full field general mode and brooking no argument, though with a not-unsympathetic smile. "You, food. Ginny, decorations. Pick this up again later, please, as I've no desire to run your party while you play doctor."

Tonks pointed at Ginny, whose eyes were narrowed so far it was a wonder she could see out of them. "I needed somone to come with me."

Smile unwavering as she locked stares with Ginny, Hermione called out over her shoulder, "NEVILLE!"

"He's supposed to be helping decorate," said Ginny, doing her best to give Hermione the 'bugger off for a minute, please' look.  
  
Hermione shrugged it off. "He'll be back. NEV!"

Tonks tugged on Ginny's sleeve. "I'll go get Remus."

"No," Ginny growled, even as Hermione said agreeably, "That works."

"Gin--" said Tonks, finally diverting her attention with a hand around her waist, "It's fine. I'll get Remus. We'll pick this up later."

Ginny scowled and crossed her arms tightly. "Fine."

Tonks leaned to whisper something in her ear, and Ginny suddenly broke into a huge grin. After a (relatively) brief kiss Tonks called out, "Be back Hermione. Sorry about that," and Disapparated.

"You're such a bitch some days," said Ginny, though --very strangely-- the grin seemed to stick.

Hermione cocked her head, not in the least bit concerned about provoking her, though she remained a little confused. "Truth. Pot/Kettle. Let's go."

Neville stepped out onto the back step in time to be dragged back into the house by the elbows as Ginny and Hermione moved past with hurricane force.

###

Kingsley sighed and shoved his mobile back in his pocket, stalking back in from the balcony of his flat to the small kitchen table and lean over Bill, arms over his shoulders.

"Bad news," he rumbled.

"Sorry. Not allowed," said Bill, dropping his paper to shut his eyes and just lean. "Had enough of that. Tell it to go away."

"I've got to get to the Ministry ball. Seems a couple of the Aurors scheduled for duty came down with something and they wanted me to call in reinforcements."

"So do it," murmured Bill, turning and pressing his nose against the side of Kingsley's neck "Perks of management."

"Can't," sighed Kingsley. "Next ones in line are Tonks and Weasley..."

"...And there's no way you're letting them miss their party," finished Bill.

Kingsley growled a sound that was meant to convey that he was in no way softer on them than anyone else and that they in particular received more than their share of the arse-chewing thanks to their mulish need to continue being heroes. Bill, in turn aimed a nipping kiss at the soft skin too near his mouth to resist, and Kingsley took that (correctly) as a placating 'I know'.

"I'll come with you," said Bill.

"Nah. Go to the house. I'll just be standing around looking threatening."

"Listen-- 'S nothing but kids anyway. We'll let them have their fun, I'll find ways of distracting you and be on hand in case there's any trouble."

Kingsley knew he ought to argue, remind him that at the very least, Charlie, Remus and probably Hes would be there, but Bill had been at the jobsite in Egypt training his replacement for a bloody month before now, as he had been on and off for what seemed like forever, and was scheduled for at least another five weeks after. Truth be told, he was looking for an excuse not to argue.

"What time to you have to be in?" asked Bill, reaching back to grope in Kingsley's trouser pocket for his mobile.

"Four," Kingsley said with a smile. "And that's _not_ my phone."

"Oh?" Bill answered, amusement evident in his voice as he finally located the mobile and then tossed it onto the table top after only a cursory glance. "Hour's a long time. A bloke could get better educated in the difference."

###

Ron was faceplanted on his bed begging the ground to swallow him whole, willing himself not to recall that he'd decided to spend time with Malfoy on Wednesday to remind himself what a snotty bastard Malfoy was and why he wanted nothing to do with him, and the plan had backfired spectacularly.

Oh, he wasn't entirely proven wrong-- Malfoy was certainly a snotty bastard, but he was also relatively witty, entertaining, liked the chocolates that Ron picked over and vice versa, could play a decent game of chess (though still not decent enough to beat Ron) and was generally a passable human being.

Also, the barest strip of skin that showed between his belt and the bottom of his shirt when he stretched sometimes tended to taunt Ron and dare him to get a closer look.

He opened one eye and groaned when he saw that it was only three thirty, and wished that the party would just happen and be over with; maybe wished too that he could do something other than obsess for the four hours between now and then.

"Ron!" called Hermione from outside his door. "Come on. I need you to help set up the back garden."

Bugger. Why couldn't he learn to stop wishing things?

###

Harry on the other hand, was fast asleep, and had left Neville in charge of waking him up at six.

At four, Neville was downstairs charming balloons into place, hair still wet, eyes darting to the nearest clock every ten minutes or so without fail, and never mind that he'd set the alarm on his watch.

###

Remus set his share of the boxes down on the counter and then looked to Tonks, who set a same-size pile on the table.

"Let's see-- how does this work?"

"Got it," said Tonks, holding up the bit of parchment that had been affixed to the side of the box labeled '1'. "'The food will stay charmed fresh for up to'-- blah blah blah -- ok. Here. 'Set the boxes on a level surface'. Check. 'At the appropriate time, merely use a standard unpacking charm, which will activate the enchantments on all of the boxes in hearing range.' Brilliant. We can do that." She set the parchment back on top of one of the boxes and patted it. "Now. If you'll excuse me, I've got an appointment with a redh-- Remus?"

"Huh?" said Remus, arms crossed and leaning on the counter, his attention snapping back to her from... wherever it had been. "Right. Unpacking Charm does it. Go on and find her."

Wanting nothing more than yes, to go and find Ginny, Tonks tilted her head. It was clear that Remus needed her, and therefore, she had business to attend to. "It really went that badly?"

"Nightmarishly so," said Remus, pressing a palm to his face and exhaling loudly. "I don't know what the hell I was thinking."

Tonks sighed and muttered, "Sodding _bat_." Louder, she added, "Alright. You an' me, we're cracking into the drinks."

"The last thing I need is to be pissed this early in the evening, love," said Remus. "Thank you anyway, though. Find me later and try again."

With a look that spoke volumes for how thick she found Remus to be, Tonks held up two bottles of ale. "We need to doctor your partners' alcohol?"

Remus snorted and looked down, bemused. "You are so very right."

Tonks peered thoughtfully into the open box, shifted the bottles into one hand and took another two. "And one each for ourselves won't hurt while we're at it."

###

"Don't look at me like that," said Draco, though it was actually him reclining in state on Pansy's bed and watching as she paraded every last one of the new dresses she'd bought for the party. "That one may be a bit much for this particular function."

Standing hipshot in the most recent of the parade, a watered silk creation in dark rose with a back cut scandalously low, Pansy crossed her arms and turned her nose up. "You're right, and that's why I made sure to have a selection. And you're being a moron."

"Piss directly off," sneered Draco, dismissively, tossing one of her pillows aside. "Go _select_ another one, princess."

Glaring, she dropped the straps off of her shoulders where she stood and walked away from it after it fell to the ground, disregarding the fact that she was down to her scantily-cut underthings. "You are," she called from her walk-in closet as the rose silk disappeared from the ground (thanks to her house elf, no doubt). Pansy came back out of the closet in a sea green dress that fell just below the knees and again looked at Draco as though he were slow.

"If The Weasel's anything like his brother, you've nothing to lose."

"I do. That one makes you look... hippy," said Draco nastily, smirking when she tugged it off and Banished it in a large puff of flame and smoke.

"Perish the fucking thought. I am not _hippy_ ," she snarled and retreated once more, hands automatically gravitating to the sides of her hips and thighs as if to reassure herself. "No one gives a damn anymore, Draco," she called out from the depths of the closet.

"That you're not hippy?" said Draco, rolling his eyes.

"No, dolt," said Pansy, stomping back out wearing a blue halter dress that was really rather stunning in what managed to be a casual way. "That he's The Weasel and you're... well. You."

"Perfect. You're a sodding vision. _I_ care," said Draco as he slumped further. "Severus doesn't know what the hell he's talking about. But I mean it about the dress-- that's the one."

Pansy pursed her lips and continued in her march toward her bed, climbed up and slapped Draco. As he rubbed his cheek and looked offended, she flopped against him and snaked her arm around his middle securely. "Watch your mouth. He got us out alive."

After a pause during which Draco wrapped his arms around her shoulders and squeezed, he murmured, "You'll wrinkle your dress."

"Sod it. Mipsy will fix it. Stop being an idiot and smile-- we're going to a party."

After a short, comfortable silence, Draco laughed. "Weasley doesn't stand a chance."

"No, darling," said Pansy, looking up and pushing his hair back from his face. "Neither of them ever did."

###

The doorbell rang at 5:37 and Hermione rushed to get it, half in dread and half in nervous excitement.

"Oh my god," mumbled Parvati. "I knew we had an uphill battle ahead, but--"

"Well, at least she moisturizes," sighed Lavender at her shoulder.

Hermione opened her mouth to speak, but Parvati beat her to it.

"Hush. Yes, I brought backup. We'll need a room. Good lord, one with decent lighting."

"No make up," said Hermione forcefully. "Hair only, you agreed."

Lavender grimaced and whined, "Hermione, pleeeease. I know subtle. I am a master of subtle."

"No. Make up," said Hermione decisively, leading them to Luna's room. "That's final."

Parvati set her case carefully on the floor against the wall, flicked her wand at it and let it become a full beauty station. As it did, she turned to look at Hermione the way one might eye the less fortunate, before attempting a smile.  
Nearly shocking Hermione into a coma, Parvati said as kindly as she was capable of doing, "Well. You do have very nice skin."

###

As a rule, he did not drink when outside his home. Sobering Solutions were never quite enough, even when he brewed them himself.

As a rule, he did in fact habitually dress in dark clothing, though the sharp, deep black trousers, matching shirt and vests with impossible numbers of tiny buttons were intended for when he left the house. The vest threaded through with nearly unnoticeable shimmering dark green never came out of storage charms but for formal functions and to date, he had never worn it while the formal outer robes hung unnoticed in the closet.

As a rule, Severus did not sit in his armchair wearing what amounted to _party_ clothes and toying with an untouched glass of firewhiskey at six in the evening.

It seemed Friday was beginning to look like a rule-breaking sort of day.

###

A throng of reporters bustled through the official Ministry ball and wove their way back and forth between it and the informal celebration that had taken over Diagon Alley. Enough to actually qualify as a bona-fide _throng_ for once, as in addition to the usual coverage by the _Prophet_ and the _Quibbler_ , there were a handful of reporters from press on the continent and even one from the states and one from _Wizarding Geographic_. Teeming, nothing so much as a pack of quietly persistent pirahnas that formed and broke apart and reformed and tried to pick at one another's kills as the guests began to arrive for the cocktail hour scheduled to begin at six-fifteen.

Still, they all eventually began to ask the same question.

"Where's the guest of honor tonight? Seems his entire table is empty."

And received about the same response.

"I heard they _neglected_ to RSVP. All of them."

Until they ran into Michael Corner's very recently estranged ex-girlfriend, Lisa Turpin, who answered with a sneer, "Try Potter's house. Seems they're having their own little party, one to which the likes of me aren't invited given I'm not shagging his little friend anymore. And when I say _little_ , I mean _little_. And you can quote me on that."

They did. And then in a rush the throng had relocated to the front lawn of 12 Grimmauld Place.

(Except the reporter from _Wizarding Geographic_.)

###

"Wake up, Harry," said a voice that was warm and comfortable, the hand planted between his shoulderblades heavy and just right. Harry shifted, more asleep than awake to throw an arm over the lap of the fully-dressed person sitting on the edge of his bed, murmuring under his breath.

"Don't want to. 'S too early. Come back to bed."

"Err. You can't go back to sleep. You'll miss the party. You could try, but I don't know that I could defend the door against Ginny, Tonks and Hermione at once."

"Don' feel bad. No one could," muttered Harry with a raspy laugh, turning his head to squint at Neville, across whose lap he was now thrown. "They're scary. Be bloody well nigh invincible altogether."

Neville laughed. Harry grinned and then rolled off of him. "Sorry, wasn't quite awake," he said, groping for his glasses on the side table.

"N-no worries," said Neville, dusting his trousers off meticulously as he stood. "You awake now?"

"Yeah," said Harry, swinging his feet onto the floorboards. "...Nev, it's six-thirty."

"You looked like you needed the sleep," Neville said, coloring slightly. "There's time." He grinned and looked away. "All you missed was Ginny dealing with reporters."

Harry's eyes went wide, failing to see how that was funny. " _Reporters_? Nev, you're kidding."

"No. Someone tipped them off," said Neville, turning the grin on Harry. "So Gin went out there and called them all together. Then she hosed them down with 3W Incandescent Ink and then Hermione re-keyed the wards to shock anything that even remotely smelled of the stuff."

Harry stared as his newly-waking mind made sense of that, then barked a laugh and buried his face in his hands. "They can't get in and they can't sneak up because they're _glowing_."

"Yep," agreed Neville. "And the Ministry sent security to help deal with them."

"Ergh," said Harry, suddenly less entertained. "Can't decide which is worse."

"Heh," said Neville with another brilliant grin. "These are an alright sort."

###

Kingsley stood, arms crossed on the back porch of 12 Grimmauld Place, surveying carefully the moving spots of light beyond the tall back garden fence as Bill and Tonks further fortified the adjusted wards, Ginny, Hermione and Ron working on the front side of the lot. There was a sizzle and a yelp, and he called out. "Stay back, folks. Private Property."

He did an excellent job of not snickering as Tonks added under her breath, "Wankers."

###

Luna checked her watch, a gift from Hermione that had made her so very happy at Christmas --pink and featuring a fat cartoon kitten that sported a bow and a friendly wave-- and grinned hugely. Seven o'clock and she was standing on Percy's doorstep with a bouquet of mixed flowers tucked behind her back, knocking politely just like one ought.

The voice that rang out from behind the closed door was an equal mix of panic and excitement, and so very Percy that she bounced up on the balls of her feet once and twice and back before the door even opened.

"Just a moment-- I'm sorry, Yes I--" The door opened and Percy cocked his head at Luna, adjusting his glasses in utter confusion, shirt open at the throat, tie hanging loosely under the collar.

"Luna? Is everything alright? It's-- early? Or did I misunderstand the invitation?"

"No. As usual, you understood it perfectly well," smiled Luna gently, pulling the flowers from behind her back and offering them to him. "I wanted to surprise you."

"They're lovely!" said Percy, blinking again as he peered from them to her. "But you really didn't have to."

"I know," said Luna, leaning over them to peck his cheek. "That's what makes them special."

###

At approximately 7:35, the doorbell rang and a completely done-up Lavender ran to the window and peered out, squealing at the top of her lungs before taking a breath and grabbing Hermione by the elbow to pull her away from a last-minute strategy session with Ginny, both freshly in from seeing to the wards.

"They're heeeere!" she said, disturbingly fifteen years of age all over again, and Hermione nodded and pressed a hand to her hair, in a smooth, tasteful french twist and no hint of makeup to be seen, in a dress that cost her all of Tuesday night haggling over neckline, hemline, cut, color, formality and transparency with Parvati and Lav; a fight she would have given up after five minutes if she didn't know that without her say, Parvati would have picked something incredibly inappropriate and Lavender would have egged her on.

"Excellent. Shall w--"

Lavender had Hermione's chin in hand and was taking advantage of her 'W' sound to squish something gooey onto her lips. Hermione pulled back and slapped at her hand.

"Hands off, Brown!"

"It's only lip gloss," pleaded Lavender, eyes a little desperate as she pressed the tube into Hermione's hand. "Subtle gloss and shimmer, and it tastes like chocolate, that's all, I swear."

Hermione shot her a dirty look and opened the door. And promptly forgot the dirty look as quickly as Lavender was suddenly a grown woman again.

"Hi," she grinned, oh, _so_ gratified as Dean grinned back.

"Hi," he said, dropping his gaze and palming the back of his neck. "You look--"

"Hi Hermione," said Seamus distractedly, elbowing Dean in passing as he walked in and fell directly upon Lavender.

"Yes. Thank you," said Hermione, rolling her eyes, the air quotes audible in her speech. "That's all Lavender. Apparently, she 'knows subtle'."

"Nah," said Dean, taking her hand and kissing the back of it. "That's all you."

Hermione didn't even notice the flashbulb and the resultant _crack_ of Tonks' _accidentally_ breaking someone's camera.

###

Ron had been sent to set out the food, grinning stupidly as he set the boxes out on the buffet in the sitting room and performing an unpacking charm that set up a huge spread of finger foods and all the necessary dishes and utensils.

Still grinning and muttering, "Wicked," around a pilfered carrot stick, he returned to the kitchen to haul out the accompanying alcohol and stopped short in the doorway.

Pansy was standing in the back entryway, hanging up her coat and going on about the utter irony of being on such familiar terms with Potter as Draco shut the door behind them.

Swallowing his mouthful, Ron cleared his throat and Pansy obviously looked him over, arching an approving eyebrow. "Malfoy. Parkinson. There're drinks... well, food in the sitting room. I'm getting the dr-- See, because things are um. Just getting started."

Smirking wickedly, Pansy strolled up to Ron and patted his arm on the way past. "I'll just go find your brother, then and make him get me some."

Ron watched her go over his shoulder, mouth dry as he realized he'd have to look up again, eventually. So he sucked it up and did.

"Weasley," smirked Draco, looking fit to be devoured as he stripped off his long trenchcoat and hung it up as well. "It appears I've been left to my own devices yet again."

Biting the inside of his lip hard first to remind himself to be cool, Ron said, "Your devices could help set out the alcohol." He didn't really expect that Draco would help, it was just the only thing--

"I suppose I could do that," said Draco, mirroring Pansy's smirk and moving fully into the room. "Where should I start?"

Ron stared. He couldn't help it. He was definitively, utterly, truly--

"Weasley?"

\--screwed.

###


	9. Friday Night

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which there is a raging anti-party (and several subsequent mini-anti-anti-parties) that together suspiciously resemble a raging party.

**Friday Night**

Neville had managed to exit Harry's room without incident, though watching him cross from the rumpled bed to the master bath in a t-shirt and boxers while scrubbing a hand through his hopelessly mussed hair really did pose a challenge to his Selfless Zen of Harry Potter. If Neville had slammed the door a little too unsteadily on the way out, and if he'd puffed a huge exhale after, it was all in the name of regaining said composure.

He didn't often, but Neville needed a drink.

Having jogged downstairs at that time only to be commandeered again, Neville had missed the opportunity to crack into the drinks and get an early start, but now that Ginny had dashed upstairs to get dressed and Hermione was probably greeting guests or hosing down reporters, he was safe. Making his way around by way of the kitchen, Neville walked into the sitting room nearest the food and drink set up with a sigh of relief.

"Yeah, mate," said Neville, bumping Ron's elbow. "I'll take that." He took a glass off of the stack that Ron was setting down, helped himself to the beer and took a decent-sized swallow before he even registered that Draco was standing nearby arranging bottles of liquor.

"Err. Hello," said Neville sheepishly as he lowered the glass again. "Good to see you made it."

Ron arched an eyebrow in his trademark expressive confusion and cocked his head at Neville's glass. "Thirsty?"

"Weasley," drawled Draco, not losing an ounce of amusement from his expression. "After spending ten minutes assisting in the set up, even I can only imagine with a shudder the thirst for alcohol that a week in this madhouse might have caused."

"Piss off," said Ron, though he was almost smiling as he shook his head.

Neville looked from one to the other and wondered whether in the wake of Harry's faceplant in his lap and these two not at one another's throats that perhaps he might be imagining all or part of this day. He was however, spared having to answer himself as the front door opened in a spectacular rush of trumpeting fanfare and red and gold pyrotechnics that melted into sparkling ribbons and continued to spread outward over the hardwood floors.

"Never fear, good citizens!" cried one Weasley twin, striking an heroic pose in the doorway.

"The party is in fact, here." cried the other, joining the first in the doorway, waving and grinning into the crowd (small as it was at the moment), who for the most part, cheered as they dodged the fireworks.

"Oh, hell," said Ron with a sigh. "Here we go. Wards for the table, maybe?"

"Nah," said Neville. "Ginny left strict instructions. They're not allowed anywhere near the food or drinks unless they're actually eating and/or drinking."

"And just how is that enforceable?" said Draco, entirely dubious.

"She appealed to their better natures, since it's Harry's party and all?" Neville said, though from the tone of his voice, he didn't quite believe that either. Both Ron and Draco turned narrow eyes on him. "And apparently, she's got some sort of blackmail on them," he added as he grinned and took another drink.

"Reprobates, the lot of you," breathed Draco as each twin took a step and reached a hand back through the doorway. "What now?"

A giggling Susan Bones emerged into the room clutching one each of the twins' hands, dressed fit to kill with her cleavage alone and looking more smug than anyone had a right. Ron rolled his eyes and looked faintly ill. "Yeah she does."

###

The music seemed to grow a little louder, the crowd a little more upbeat even as it swelled in size, the door now in a constant state of flux. Every time it opened, faint, desperate cries of 'Do you have a comment?' or 'Why the Ministry boycott?' filtered in, usually followed by a threatening growl and sometimes a _crack_ and then a hasty ' _Reparo_ '. When Angelina and Oliver arrived, there was a general uproar in that they brought along a small group of players from both United and Tutshill along with them. Ginny in her cut and reconfigured _Property of the Auror Corps_ shirt (formerly Ron's), too-short skirt and ripped tights, managed to barrel into them both before they even made it past the doorway.

Ron, however missed that particular bit of showmanship. He was sitting on the window ledge of the breakfast nook across from a similarly perched Draco Malfoy, relating the tale of the queen Boggart. Feet planted on the wooden bench seat, Ron used his empty glass as a convenient tool with which to gesture more emphatically, not that his facial expressions weren't conveying enough animation on their own. Draco looked appropriately horrified, through to his chagrin, Ron was hoping that it left room for a measure of 'suitably impressed'.

As it turned out, he was gratified enough when Draco burst into laughter as Ron described the wind-up polka-dot chihuahua and its subsequent demise.

"Exactly!" exclaimed Ron as he nudged Draco's foot with his own and resolved not to think about it any harder than he had to. He told himself firmly that he was sitting across the window seat from just another blond that he was looking to properly impress; they had no grudges and no history before having caught sight of him.

"Only a simpleton like you would find that hilarious enough to kill a Boggart _Queen_ ," said Draco between more laughter and another drink from his own glass, and Ron paused to examine him.

Maybe there was a little bit of a grudge still there.

"Oh and I suppose you would have made it a mirror, then? Photo of yourself?" asked Ron as sarcastically as he could manage, and all Draco did was laugh harder. And damn him-- it was infectious.

Maybe they needed the grudge to get by.

###

Severus stared at the same half-empty glass of firewhiskey still in hand round about eight o'clock, annoyed with himself that he couldn't quite bring himself to down the remainder and loosen his shirt; to get comfortable and have another two or three glasses this size and decide not to go anywhere until he absolutely had to.

The issue was that he truly did not want to go to the party and be anywhere near Potter or his cronies. He didn't care if the twin terrors made idiots of themselves, and he didn't care that there might in fact be one person he could get along with far from the main body of the ridiculous display.

The ensuing problem was that one of those statements had been completely untrue until he'd turned on Lupin. Purposefully and unsubtly because he'd been frustrated with himself, because he'd thought it the best course in order to hold on to his favorite fantasies. Unfortunately, the lingering effect was that even the best and previously most fulfilling of said fantasies didn't hold a candle to even the most pedestrian of time spent with the wolf. Even dinner became something he could manage to enjoy rather than see to.

As such, he had more than a few choice curses for the next time he saw Lupin, that much was certain. Fortunately, he had the perfect opportunity to deliver such. Carefully, he stood, set the half-full glass down on the side table, brushed down his clothes and drew his wand.

Severus was no fool Gryffindor, and therefore he might have to justify his actions some other way than 'manning up', but he was going to carry them out at any rate.

###

For once, Harry took the front stairs down. Personally, he could do without the grand entrance, but in his mind, it might be better if he made one and let everyone have their moment, and then maybe leave him to milling around in peace for the rest of the evening.

As he appeared around the top of the first landing, he held out hope of a quiet descent that lasted two steps down. _Then_ there was a deafening roar of applauding, cheering and wolfwhistling that made him flush from throat to hairline. He rolled his eyes as he waved it off, muttering, "Oh hell. Come on, now," trying to sound nonchalant as he surreptitiously glanced over the crowd, looking for faces that were more than familiar-- everyone here was a friend that could be trusted, or a friend by extension, but there were only a handful that made him feel truly ok- made him feel _home_. He didn't see Ron or Hermione, no Ginny or even Draco either, but there were Luna and Neville, applauding and waving enthusiastically.

Luna called out, "Happy Day, Harry!" and as he made it to the bottom step, he tried to follow her voice only to be accosted on all sides by hugs and handshakes and winning grins. More than one hand strayed familiar in the crush, yet he wasn't able to really say that it hadn't been there once before. Overwhelming more than anything, Harry kept smiling and hugging, about on his last nerve not five feet from the staircase, cursing his own stupidity for agreeing to all this to begin with.

"Alright, back off, mates," said Neville from behind Harry.

"You'll love him to death," Luna added with an owlish blink. "The boy isn't as used to it as he ought to be, you know."

Her small hand slipped into the crook of his elbow and tugged him off to the corner where Percy was seated near Harry's cordoned-off armchair. Neville followed and Harry shook his head.

"This is ridiculous," he muttered.

"Not at all," said Luna. "You did a marvelous thing. You _are_ a marvelous thing. People want to wish you well. Or at least, say they do. Especially your friends." She pushed him gently into his chair. "We'll just let it die down a little and then you'll be able to mingle with everyone else."

Harry laughed until he found himself with an unexpected lapful of giggling Mandy Brocklehurst. "Harry! Congratulations!" she exclaimed, planting a too-lingering and too-moist kiss on his cheek.

"Oh no," said Luna, reaching out for Mandy's elbow and tugging her back onto her feet. "I'm sorry. His lap is off-limits at the moment."

Harry snickered and dropped his chin into his hand. "She's right, I'm afraid," he agreed.

"Oh, well. Congratulations anyway," Mandy said, suddenly very interested in adjusting her hair. "But if you're interested, I wouldn't mind keeping you company. Again..."

Harry watched her walk away as she let the word trail off, more bemused than put out. "Thank you, Luna. Have you been assigned security detail?"

Luna laughed hysterically, so suddenly that Percy jumped and nearly dropped his drink before he relaxed again.

"Not at all," she said cheerfully. "I'm on friend duty."

Head thumping back against his chair, Harry looked up again as a drink landed in his hand. Neville grinned down. "What she said."

###

Remus was on the back step with Bill, companionably squirting moving incandescent reporters over the fence with Hermione's transfigured Super Soakers and occasionally sharing a laugh over the surprised yelps as the ice-cold water hit a target.

"You here to stay this time?" asked Remus during a lull in which the bobbing blobs of light seemed to back off.

"Nearly," answered Bill.

"Story of the last two years or so, mate," said Remus without accusation.

"Put my foot down this time. Five more weeks and I'm done," said Bill, adding under his breath as he lifted his beer in Kingsley's direction. "Don't mind saying I'll be a sorry bastard if I'm wrong."

Kingsley in turn flashed a rude gesture from his position at the side of the house and called out, "Make sure to have one for me, Remus."

Remus laughed, downed the remaining beer in his own glass and held it up. "You've got it, mate." He murmured to Bill, "On duty?"

"Damnably, yes," frowned Bill. "It was that or call in the kids."

Grimacing, Remus set his gun down on the porch. "That's dedication."

"No," Bill smirked. "He's just trying to get in my trousers with his selfless deeds."

"Did it work?" said Remus, all too amused and playing along.

"Aye, pretty much instantaneously," said Bill with a decisive nod.

Remus laughed and clapped him on the shoulder. "Smart man." He cocked his head toward the door and held up his glass in a silent declaration of intent to have his way with the beer. Opening the door onto a cacaphony of music and laughter worked well enough, but his progress was impeded when he crashed head on into Tonks immediately following.

"Hi Remus. Seen Gin?" she asked, her eyes scanning the back garden over his shoulder.

"Last I heard she was off looking for you," said Remus. "Bad show, losing her so soon."

Tonks narrowed her eyes and shoved him back a step. "Wanker. Help me."

Remus shoved back with one hand. "Fine. I'll make a circuit or t--"

There was a crack of Apparation just past the gate and a small commotion of lights headed in the general direction of such, though no one came through. To make matters worse, the inky artificial black of what was unmistakably Peruvian Darkness began edging over the fence in that direction. Tonks frowned and started forward, as did Kingsley and Bill, but Remus held his glass up and Transfigured it into a pair of weirdly glowing goggles.

"I can handle it," Remus said as he pulled them on and trotted to the gate, not giving them a chance to argue. "Stay back until I get it dispelled."

With the recently-developed goggles, he could see right through the artifical darkness, easily yanking open the gate and standing aside in one quick motion. When nothing came through, he poked his head around with extreme caution, wand drawn. He could see glowing reporters milling about confused, and a figure approaching at the center of the inky black that he recognized immediately. Brow furrowed, Remus held a hand up in Kingsley's direction, though he probably couldn't see Remus doing so. He edged out past the gate and further into the dark, wand still drawn in the slim case that he was wrong. Truthfully, he felt as though he might know that shape almost anywhere.

"Severus?" he hissed.

"Reporters, Lupin," Severus hissed back. "The place is crawling with them."

"Can't say I'm surprised," said Remus.

His head popped up as the nearest of the pack came closer, groping, hands out in front of his face, and calling shakily, "Who's there? Do you have a comment?"

"Remus?!" Kingsley called from inside the gate.

Severus brought his wand up, speaking formally in a clear dismissal, "Apologies for the distubance."

"Wait!" hissed Remus, pushing Severus' wand hand down, eyes darting back and forth before calling back to Kingsley, "It's clear. Just more reporters that are about to be _dealt with_."

The reporters within earshot scattered like rats and Bill said, "Care to dispel this shite, then, mate?"

"Good. Evening," said Severus, raising his wand again. Remus shook his head and grabbed hold of Severus' wrist.

"No, no, hold on," Remus growled, feeling like this situation was spiralling rapidly and ridiculously out of control. "Just come in."

"This was ill-advised at best," sneered Severus. "I should have known it some sort of media stunt."

"Hold on for what?!" called Tonks, sounding as though she were getting closer, likely because she was. "Sod it, I'm coming in."

Remus darted a look over his shoulder and said quickly, "I'm glad you came. It wasn't a media stunt. Hold on."

With that, he Disapparated, Severus in tow. Not five seconds later, he reappeared alone, and dispelled the Darkness quickly only to find Tonks, Bill and Kingsley staring at him in confusion.

"Reporters," he said lamely. "Trying to be sly."

Bill flashed a rude gesture in the direction of the nearest glowing lights. "Bastards." He tugged on Kingsley's elbow and began to retreat as Kingsley shot Tonks a look that said he knew something was off, but if Remus was behind it, he wasn't going to press the issue.

"Let's get back, shall we?" said Remus cheerfully, his eyes darting upward before settling on Tonks again. He pressed a guiding hand to her back as they went back through the back gate and shut it securely. "As I recall," said Remus making a beeline for the house and pushing Tonks forcibly along with him, "I was on a mission, so if you gentlemen will excuse me--"

Once inside the door, Tonks made a jerky little pulling-away movement and hopped forward a step before wheeling on Remus. "What was _that_ about? And let me tell you, you're lucky I speak _both_ Shacklebolt and Lupin because you are doing a right shitty job of covering whatever it is you're trying to cover."

Remus took her by the arms and leaned in, the look on his face a cross between shock and terror. "He came."

Eyebrows raised as far as they could go and wavering between the hot pink of her hair and a bright cherry red, Tonks' mouth dropped open. "Are you serious? The hell are you doing here?" She looked at Remus as though he might be hiding something on his person. "Where'd he go?"

" _That_ is precisely why we need to talk," he said, releasing her except for an elbow and dragged her through the kitchen to the sitting room in order to raid the food and drink spread. He gathered two bottles of wine and a random plate of cheese and crackers, then pushed her back into the kitchen with his elbow. "I needed to appropriate your idea."

"My wh-- Oh. OH! Foul!" said Tonks, poking Remus in the chest. "Cheat!"

He shrugged apologetically as he made for the back stairs, heart thumping wildly in his chest. "I'm sorry. I'm further behind than you are."

Tonks stood hands on hips, peering at him hard for a moment longer before deflating a little and waving it off. "Too true. I'll figure it out."

Remus paused three stairs up and grinned. "Thank you."

"Keep moving, fool!" said Tonks with more than a trace of exasperation. "And take those goggles off."

Laughing, Remus turned and ran the rest of the way.

###

"Malfoy?"

Draco held up a hand as Tonks disappeared back out of the room. "Did you see that?"

Ron was well aware that there was a party raging in the main room, and that instead of mingling and possibly doing something about fixing his unfortunate state of not having had a decent shag in months, he was _still_ sitting on the window ledge of the breakfast nook across from Draco Malfoy deeply entrenched in an in-depth discussion as to concrete reasons behind the Cannons' spectacularly bad luck and why the Arrows/United match the following Sunday was shaping up to be the one match of the season that absolutely could not be missed.

He'd given up trying to rationalize it. He'd even given up trying to make sense of it. Hell, he'd given up caring that Remus and Tonks were clearly in the middle of some sort of mischief.

"Yeah," said Ron, dismissing it with a shrug. "'Least they're not at each others' throats after last weekend."

"What happened last weekend?" said Draco with an air of lazy curiosity, and Ron turned to look at him as though he'd been speaking in a foreign language (which was not entirely out of the realm of possibility).

"They broke up," said Ron, adding with a concessionary nod, "Well, _Officially_. You hadn't heard?"

"Who would I have heard it from and why the devil would I care?" said Draco, his eyes still narrowed as the bit of overheard conversation nagged at him.

"Harry, for one. And you care now, don't you?"

"Mere curiosity," said Draco with a shrug. "It could be a useful bit of information." Feet where they were now on the wide sill, Draco nudged Ron's hip with his foot and held out his glass. "Speaking of useful."

Ron leveled a deadly glare at him.

Draco grinned and held the glass out insistently. "Try not to spit in it."

"I don't fetch and carry."

"Poor training in hospitality."

Ron's eyebrows crawled yet further and Draco rolled his eyes with a sigh. "Please."

With a grumbled swear, Ron took the glass and planted his feet solidly on the bench seat (a move that Hermione would go pretty shrill over if she'd caught it) before hopping gracefully onto the ground. He set his hand on the door and shot one last reproachful glance over his shoulder before went through it and set to refilling the glasses in hand. Wondering why the hell if he was so annoyed, he still could think of not much else more than tossing the ferrety git up against the side pane and--

"You're spilling."

"Huh?!" said Ron, turning from the wall he'd been staring through down to the overflowing beer glass in his hand. "Shite," he muttered, bending to take a sip from the offending glass to lower the liquid level. "Thanks."

"Distracted?" said Hermione, practically bouncing on the balls of her feet as she pulled a clean wine glass and served herself from a bottle of some sort of white that had been sitting in the tub of ice.

Ron eyed her up and down with half a smirk before turning to refill the second glass. "A bit. You?"

The woman actually _giggled_. "Maybe."

He couldn't help the requisite protective instinct and the usual twinge of jealousy. "Make sure Dean knows I'll break him in two if he acts like an arse, mate or not."

"Thank you, Ronald, I'll be sure to bring up that bit of cheerful conversation at my earliest opportunity," she tried to deadpan, but there was more of the giggling. Sodding hell. "Who are _you_ fetch-and-carrying for, hmm?"

"Huh?!" he said again, causing the glass to spill over (again). "Oh! Just--"

"--being a gracious host," Draco said from the doorway, closing the last few steps to take possession of the drink nearest him. "And I do appreciate it."

Hermione's eyes went wide and Ron knew she was (valiantly) subduing an urge to clap a hand over her mouth. "Oh! Well, that _is_... very gracious of him," she said with an overly agreeable nod.

"Hermione..." warned Ron out of the corner of his mouth, beginning to feel exposed and self-conscious and as though his every thought was laid bare to her dissection.

"Very," agreed Draco, adjusting the drink in his hand and shifting subtly in Ron's direction.

"I have to! Go--" said Ron, not giving a damn about the oddities of inflection. "--because I promised I'd help out with security. Remember, Hermione?"

He didn't give her a chance to answer. Instead, he half-turned to Draco and pulled a small grin that looked more like a grimace, he was sure, eyes darting back to Hermione. "'Scuse me."

"Of course," Draco acknowledged with a careless nod, and Ron turned on his heel and beer in hand stalked past Hermione as though _it_ were all her fault.

Ron didn't want to articulate what exactly comprised 'it' just now, not even to himself. As a result, he downed the majority of his beer in the trip through the large, loud, crowded sitting room and Banished the empty glass as he tossed open the front door wearing a look of pure murder for anyone foolhardy enough to try for a photo.

###

Harry drained the last of his second drink in quick succession while Neville and Luna were busy playing some alcohol-soaked variation of thumb wars. Percy had wandered back to see whether anyone needed help with the perimeter and without looking up from the latest round, Luna called up to Harry, "Did you need another, Harry, or is your lap open for business again?"

Neville coughed hard and lost the round, thereby forced to take a drink from the glass balanced in his other hand.

"Dunno about 'open for business'," said Harry, grinning though his eyes were shut. He then stood and didn't wobble at all as he brushed the front of his shirt. "But brave enough to make it across the room to get my own drink, I think."

"Excellent," said Luna, cocking her head at Neville and toward Harry's chair. "We'll save your seat."

"You don't have to do that, Luna," said Harry. "Just... y'know. Keep doing what you're doing."

"We can reach across!" she volunteered, adding as a happy exclamation, "Damn!" then "Yay!" immediately afterward as Neville won a round. Neville shook his head and took Harry's seat.

"Yeah-- she's right," said Neville as Luna took a drink. "We can reach."

Harry patted his shoulder. "Long as you're having a good time, I suppose"

"Don't worry about us," Neville said with a grin as Luna scooted her chair closer and held out her hand insistently. "We're fine."

###

Severus stood on the flat section of the roof of 12 Grimmauld Place among two overturned lawn chairs and a small table, arms tightly crossed and scowling, attempting to convince himself to draw his wand, Apparate home and forget this debacle had ever happened. For all he knew, the wretched Wolf had dumped him here as some sort of practical joke to see how long he would stand there. And never mind the 'please-- just give me a minute' delivered with such conviction as to appear--

The door to what was presumably the staircase banged open and Lupin appeared. It shouldn't have been so gratifying to see that he was visibly concerned as he scanned the area, or that he sighed in what appeared to be relief as he spotted Severus.

"Severus. Hello. I'm sorry about what happened down there," he managed, shifting a plate and two bottles into one hand while he secured the staircase door behind him. "We were as surprised as anyone when the bloody reporters arrived, but I suppose we really ought not have been, with it being Harry's party."

"No. Potter has a knack for garnering the attention he so thrives upon," grumbled Severus, peering more closely at Lupin as he approached. "What--"

To his credit, Lupin somehow suppressed the need to apologize for Potter, instead turning his attention to aiming his wand at the chairs and table and transfiguring the area to resemble a small sitting room. The chairs became a sofa set upon a rug, the table stretched longer, shrank low and suddenly bore candles in jars. He set things in hand down onto the table, tugged the ridiculous purple goggles off of the top of his head and transfigured them into two wine glasses.

"--are you doing, exactly?" said Severus. Not that it wasn't obvious. Save for the fact that it perhaps might not be. After all, this would generally be regarded a 'romantic setting' under any other circumstances.

"You know," said Lupin as he spelled the cork from a wine bottle and poured. "I've tended bar in Muggle pubs more than once, and there were times that I would have given my eyeteeth to be able to conjure clean glasses or charm up corks." He handed Severus a glass and held up his own. "I'm glad you came."

Severus narrowed his eyes first at the glass and then at Lupin, decided it was a lost cause and finally held his glass up ever so slightly, tone more icy than he intended. "Thank you for the invitation. Such as it was."

Seemingly unperturbed, Lupin merely smiled again. "I'm afraid you were correct. It was in fact, ill-conceived at best."

Wineglass paused halfway to his mouth, Severus said, "Had I known the affair would be one such as this all said and done, however, I might have conceded earlier." Not to mention saved himself the time and trouble of having agonized over his part in this farce at all.

"Had I known an invitation to cocktails on a rooftop was what it would take," said Lupin after a brief pause. "I would have begun with that."

Severus took a larger drink than was strictly civilized as he allowed himself to accept that Lupin was indeed interested. _In him_. He could now continue with the plan to Apparate away and pretend this had never happened, or play along.

"Have a seat?" asked Lupin in a tone that could only be interpreted as 'hopeful', gesturing to the sofa.

There wasn't much of a pause before Severus sat carefully, adjusting his trousers and crossing one leg, ankle to knee. His drink hand hung off of the armrest as casually as he could manage.

"Muggle pubs?"

###

Ginny was genuinely pleased to see so many people she knew having a good time and so very glad to see her. She was also glad that her turn babysitting the front yard was over, because her next move was going to be all about finding Tonks and picking up that conversation.

In the front room she obliged Michael with an improptu dance for all of ten seconds, then excused herself and cut through the knots of people to make her way toward the kitchen. Her eyes were on the crowd-- after all, how difficult could spotting pink hair be?

"Hey Gin," said Harry, looking up from a conversation with Theo and Millicent of the Slytherin contingent that had arrived only a few minutes prior. "Having fun?"

Ginny sighed and crossed her arms. "Everything is brilliant."

Theo smirked. "Clearly." Millicent made no effort to hide a matching expression behind her drink.

Very nearly sulking, Ginny snapped, "I want my--"

"MTV?" murmured Tonks as she slipped her arms around Ginny's waist from behind.

Ginny grinned hugely and turned, oblivious to the quiet, surprised murmur around her. "Whatever that is. Geez, but you're hard to find."

"Look who's talking," said Tonks, nuzzling Ginny's cheek, arms tight around her. "Want to get out of here and _talk_?"

"Please and thank you right now," said Ginny, pressing a light kiss to the corner of Tonks' mouth. "I have plenty to say."

A buzz of laughter heralded Fred and George's arrival nearby. They slapped each other's backs when they caught sight of Ginny and Tonks, cracking huge, knowing grins and began to speak.

"Horses make good ice water!"

"And monitors really know how to toboggan!"

Initially nothing but annoyed at the interruption, Ginny raised an eyebrow in confusion once she heard what they'd said.

"Shoe butter coffee cake is a roach extravanza?" said one twin, looking at the other as though wondering about the tough crowd.

The other shrugged it off. "Lotion organizers in the toilet are made of carbon."

They both roared a laugh, and while everyone else around them seemed to find it hysterical, Ginny continued to stare.

"The hell have you two done this time?" she asked, distracted as Tonks laughed into her shoulder.

"Twee babies aren't shooting arrows!" said one, rolling his eyes.

"Oi!" said the other, exaggerating a look around. "Parlay rutabega Susie?"

Susan appeared behind them, hands on her hips. "Never call me 'Susie'," she growled.

"Rutabega Susie!!" they both shouted and proceeded to sidle up and bookend her, one tossing an arm around her shoulders and the other winding an arm around her waist.

"What happened to them, exactly?" asked Harry through a snicker.

None too impressed, Susan eyed one, then the other. "No idea. When we got here, they were fine. Few minutes ago, they started babbling like this. And apparently, they're either unaware they're doing it, or it's some sort of experiment."

"Socrates wept," said one philosophically. The other nodded.

"Shinier things have happened."

"It's sort of hot," said Susan. "In a freakishly disturbed sort of way."

"Bacon," the twins said simultaneously, drawing out the vowels with a wicked leer, and as a result, Tonks barked another laugh.

"Sanguine sock time!" said one, holding up his bottle.

"Apples _are_ a tasty meat!" agreed the other, his hand dipping down to pinch Susan's arse.

Harry covered his mouth with a loose fist and laughed as Susan giggled and slapped at the twin's hand muttering, "I take it back."

"...Sure. Hey!" said Ginny tugged Tonks back a step. "You lads have fun with that. I've got places to be."

Susan made a half-hearted grab for Ginny's arm. "Help?"

"Help with what? They probably did it to themselves!" Ginny said.

"Cunt Muppet!" shouted a twin as a rallying cry, holding his bottle up with a huge grin, the other adding, "For the Win!" Everyone around them hoisted their drinks and repeated it back and Ginny shot a dirty look at Tonks for shouting along.

Theo turned to an equally non-plussed Millicent to ask what exactly a muppet was, and Susan tilted her head at Ginny in supplication.

Tonks was barely audible through the wheezing laughter that trailed off as Ginny pulled away. "Oi, no, no. Leave them. Harry can do it.... Harry?"

"Gone, bastard," muttered Ginny, cocking her head toward where Harry had been standing. "Ten minutes. If it's not fixed they'll have to run around shouting about cunt muppets for the rest of their natural lives and I won't be a bit bothered by it."

"Fine," said Tonks, trying to pout, though her trailing laughter kept it from being as potent as it might otherwise be. "Ten minutes, and then I'm making off with you."

"Hey," Ginny said. Tonks looked up and crashed directly into a warm, drawn-out kiss that was more than anything a promise of things to come.

Neither registered the twins' whistling and hooting while they somehow made the phrase "Muffins and Escargot" dirtier than it had any right to be.

###

Harry had slipped away from the scene with the twins, just then beginning to feel a bit of a buzz and thinking he might be about ready to brave the room and possibly even join the thumb-wrestling. Halfway back, he ran into Justin and Hannah who filled him in on their plans for their new office, in the process giving him the run down of Zacharias' progress in his quest to become one neverending shrug. Once he drew away from them, it was clear he'd need another drink and so he went back, refilled his glass and then managed to make it back to his seat with only minor interruption.

When he got there, Neville was still in his chair, chin in his hand watching Luna and Percy dance not far away and wearing a look of utter amusement.

"Hey," said Harry and Neville started, breaking into a grin and making to stand.

"Chair's safe, mate. Luna left me in charge of it, and I didn't argue. She's the Ravenclaw."

Harry snickered, but pushed back on Neville's shoulder. "No, stay there. I'll sit over th-- wait." He grinned and tapped the chair with his wand, and it expanded just enough so that one more person could sit in it if the occupants sat flush at the hip, and then did so.

"...Ok," Neville said, shifting as Harry fit himself into the chair.

"Alright? I could put it back?" said Harry, suddenly worried that he'd gone too far.

"No!" said Neville quickly. "I'm fine. Good. Great, even."

"Ok," Harry said, leaning back against the wing and bending his knee slightly to rest the outside against Neville's thigh, resting his drink on the armrest. "You could also get out there and... I don't know. Mingle. Lot of friends around."

"I'm fine. I'm having a good time watching, you know?" said Neville, visibly swallowing hard, though Harry was buzzed enough that it was just an opportunity to watch the bob of his Adam's apple.

"Yeah. I love a lot of these people, but they sort of freak me out," said Harry, with a small smile. "It's good that everyone's having a good time, though."

###

"Yeah," Neville repeated, worrying that his decision to break into the drinks earlier and more quickly than he otherwise might have may have been a bad idea, given he couldn't quite dispel the visual of a sleepy, rumpled Harry fresh from his equally rumpled bed. "Good time," he muttered, wondering how many times he could fit the same phrase into the conversation.

Harry snorted a laugh, then thumped Neville's arm as he took a drink. Neville shook his head and a thought occurred to him.

"You, err. Look... dunno. _Refreshed_. Like you're having a good time," he said to Harry, marvelling that this was indeed the case.

"Yeah?" said Harry with a crooked smile. "Maybe I am. I'll never admit to it."

"It's good. Lot of the time--" said Neville, then stopped himself and waved it off. "Never mind. It's good." That had to have made at least six repetitions of 'good' between them both.

"'Lot of the time' what?" said Harry suddenly curious.

Neville rubbed the back of his own neck. "Nah, it's nothing."

"Come on, what?" said Harry, bouncing his knee against Neville's leg insistently.

"It's just-- a lot of the time when you're out having fun lately, it's a little like you're not," said Neville with a shrug, followed by a nervous laugh, his face flushed and hot. "Ah, hell. Luna's rubbing off on me. Like I said, never mind." It didn't help that Harry didn't say anything immediately.

After another long second, Harry flopped back against the wing of the chair. "You know that new arrival at the House? The one that I spent this last week watching over?"

Neville didn't know what it had to do with his end of the conversation but he went along. "Yeah...?"

"Usual story. Old near-and-not-so-dear friends coming to call and finish up their business; no one to help her out or keep an eye out for her," It was Harry's turn to shrug. "Eh. It's stupid."

"No! It's not. Go on," said Neville as encouragingly as he could.

"It's just-- It makes me think that I would never have gotten anywhere on my own," He looked down and shrugged again, and Neville got the distinct impression this conversation would never have occurred without the magic of fermentation. "I guess I'm tired of doing what I do and ending up alone again these days. It doesn't matter that it seems like I'm not. I am." Harry huffed a laugh. "Alright. That doesn't make a damn bit of sense."

"Oh," said Neville, trying to keep his tongue from tying into knots. "No, it does."

Harry laughed again, looking a little embarrassed. "At least _someone_ understood that."

Mandy swung past and grinned winningly, but she didn't manage a word past, "Hi," before Neville cut her off with a very real edge to his voice.

"No, Mandy. His lap definitely off-limits now."

###

Tonks went out to the back step to spend her ten minutes productively glaring at the glowing reporters and verifying that partygoers were who they said they were. She stepped out the door and found Charlie sitting on the top step with Pansy perched next to him, one knee slung over his.

"Wotcher, Chuck," she offered brightly, telling herself that she was not in fact about to be pounded for having unremitting filthy thoughts about his little sister. Mostly because he didn't yet have any way of knowing, not that _that_ wouldn't change the moment he went inside. "Parkinson. How're things?"

He glared predictably at her, making it clear he was fondly considering homicide for the nickname, though Pansy's added glare was relatively new.

"Abysmal but for _Charlie_ ," sighed Pansy, standing gracefully.

"Not so bad, but about to be better," said Charlie on his feet as well, thumping Tonks on the shoulder as he opened the door. "Listen, thanks--"

"Oh no!" said Tonks, alarmed. "I'm only here for--"

Charlie and Pansy were gone and Tonks found herself alone on the porch, growling, "--ten bloody, sodding minutes," into thin air.

###

The roof was too quiet. Oh certainly the conversation had gone well at first. Remus had a lot of stories he had never really told anyone, but unfortunately, he preferred it that way. Maybe one day-- well. That was a lot of presumption. But as it stood, once he told his favorite pub story, there had been a lot of staring into wine glasses.

Thus, it was in everyone's best interest for Remus to keep their glasses filled. To have something interesting to look at, of course.

 _Thus_ , as he emptied the first bottle into Severus' glass, he found himself snickering, drawing a confused eyebrow from Severus.

"You know," said Remus as he opened the second bottle. "I am a terrible Gryffindor some days."

"Is there any other kind?" asked Severus, lifting his glass with a smirk that said he was not in any way kidding.

Remus shot him a dirty look while trying not to smile as he finally managed to refill his own glass. "Yes. Many."

"In your opinion," Severus said, baiting him further. "For what it's worth, among morons you tend to stand out as... less so. Lycanthropy notwithstanding."

"Thank you," deadpanned Remus. "I may swoon."

After a short sip, Severus spoke again. " _Fine_. What makes you a 'bad Gryffindor'?"

"I am being an absolute pansy, and have been when it comes to you for approximately twenty years now," said Remus without hesitation, staring out over the side of the roof, offhand as though he were discussing the weather.

"Excuse me?"

"Do you remember the night of your first Order meeting?"

Severus scowled. "Regrettably, the memory is as clear as a bell."

"James and Sirius were about fit to kill, Peter... well. It doesn't matter." It's not as though it was a genuine reaction, at any rate. "But I..." Remus rolled his eyes at himself, determined to go on. "I thought--"

" _Lupin_."

"--I thought it was an incredibly brave thing to have done," Remus said. "And I didn't speak to Sirius and James for a week after having told them so. Forcefully." Forcefully was one word for it. More to the point, he'd stopped Sirius from marching down and 'disposing of the 'Snivelly Git' himself' by way of a full-body bind around James' tackling arm.

"How very noble of you," muttered Severus, unimpressed.

"I'm _trying_ to say that I've been fascinated by you for a long damn time," said Remus, beginning to be convinced that it had been a terrible idea, "and I never thought I stood a chance."

"In all fairness, you did not," Severus said, and Remus' chest constricted with the familiar feeling of having been made a fool of at his own hand. "Or for the most part... did not until recent events."  
  
Slowly --God, too slowly-- feeling began to seep back into Remus' fingers. He finally turned to peer at Severus with the barest spark of renewed hope, and slid the slightest bit closer.

" _How_ recent?"

###

The moment Tonks caught sight of Bill, she popped up and bolted, grabbing his face and kissing his cheek in passing. "Alright, be good, have fun, bye," she said, the 'bye' bitten off as she ran through the door, tore through the kitchen and the back int the sitting room, took a perfunctory look around and then found exactly what she'd been looking for.

Ginny looked up from where she was holding her wand on Fred and George and grinned. She muttered something to them and walked away, nothing so much as stalking toward Tonks heedless of people in her path. She didn't bother to stop until she was flush with Tonks, hitting her with nearly enough force to knock her over, thoughtfully sliding her arms over Tonks' shoulders and grinned. "Let's go."

There was no point in arguing. The party would be perfectly fine without them and if it wasn't there weren't more than enough people who could deal with it.

"Yes, please," said Tonks as her hand wound up through Ginny's bright hair.

###

"Is your best mate always completely stark raving mad?" asked Draco as he slid into the seat nearest Harry's.

Harry snorted a laugh as did Neville, attached as he was to Harry's side. He received an inquiring eyebrow from Draco, though Draco was able to display an uncommon amount of kindness in refraining from from further comment. Then again, it wasn't as though he were surprised. At all.

"You tell me," snickered Harry, who Draco knew for a fact was feeling pleasantly content and somewhat drunk, which was a gratifying thing to see. A little disappointing, since Draco had laid in a store of recreational potions in advance to counteract any sort of moping, melancholia, and any other conceivable maudlin thought he'd expected to pick up on from Harry on the day of The Anniversary. He had enough that he would have shared, but it was probably for the best this way.  
  
"Fucking stark raving," grumbled Draco.

"Enjoying yourself, then?" asked Harry brightly.

"Potter, I will continue to despise you through the end of your days," said Draco over the top of his glass, though he couldn't quite keep down the hint of a smile.

"It's good to be consistent," said Neville with a nod as he drained his glass, beating Harry to the comeback and setting him to snickering.

Draco shut his eyes, shook his head once and exaggeratedly refocused on Neville. "When did you cease being worse than entirely useless?"

"Have I?" said Neville, tone wry. "I hadn't noticed."

"Long before _you_ did, at any rate," said Harry, smacking the back of his hand lightly against Neville's stomach, though he was addressing Draco. "I saw him go out front, you know."

"It's useless. A fucking terrible idea," said Draco, leaning forward elbows to knees and speaking to Harry directly, not intending to be clear enough that anyone else could follow the thread of conversation.

"...Yeah. Probably," agreed Harry unhelpfully.

"I blame this on you. You and your entire idiotic House."

"On behalf of myself _and_ my House, fuck you."

"Nothing good can come of this."

"Then we're used to that sort of thing."

Draco stared Harry down for a second longer and then hoisted himself to his feet. "You're not right," he said as he walked away. "None of you are."

Craning his head around the side of the chair, Harry called after him, "Wouldn't be the first time!"

Snarl inaudible over the music and noise, Draco lifted his chin impossibly higher and went out the front door.

###

"Huh," murmured Neville.

"What's that?" said Harry, peering at him.

"Ron and Draco?"

"Heard this morning."

"Makes sense, now."

Privately, Harry agreed. Ron's moods, the complex emotions that he'd picked up from Draco, the pisspoor attempts at avoiding the party by both sides all added up. "Now if they could just manage to live through it--" Harry snorted another laugh. "God help us all."

Luna chose just that moment to twirl past and set a drink in Neville's hand.

"And we can help each other in the meantime!" she grinned, flopping the armrest of the chair and leaning against Harry.

"Status report, Lieutenant?" said Harry, leaning too and affecting a deep, serious voice, not really expecting one.

"Aye sir," Luna said, sitting up back straight and beginning a recitation that left Harry and Neville snickering uncontrollably. "Weasley, female: MIA along with Tonks. Weasley, eldest: patrolling the perimeter along with Shacklebolt, subject to occasional very minor lapses in attention. Weasley, next eldest: serving as an armchair for Parkinson. Weasley, Woobie: hoping I'll go rescue him from back porch duty. Weasleys, double: still spouting occasional nonsense but for the most part trying to ensure that they make proper use of every possible innuendo for 'Bones'. Weasley second youngest: formerly on front porch duty, but about to be attacked by Malfoy. As General Granger is off snogging Thomas and unavailable to make this decision, I recommend we commandeer reinforcements. Also, Potter: smashed up against Longbottom, a move of which I highly approve."

Laughing, Neville reached across Harry and shoved her knee, which only served to remind her--

"Oh! Lupin: On the roof with Snape."

"What?" said both Harry and Neville in unison.

"Lovegood: merely giving the report," she said with a lopsided grin and a shrug. "Some things are inexplicable."

Neville looked faintly ill.

"Here," said Luna hopping down from her perch and grabbing for Neville's hand. "Twister will make you feel better."

###

Temporarily made brave, Draco had in fact set out on a mission.

Certainly, he realized that he was going to be sorry later. Perhaps in the morning. Perhaps even in about thirty seconds or so, give or take. At the time, however, it seemed the only thing left to be done. He shoved the front door open, stepped out onto the porch, caught sight of Ron sitting on the railing nearest the door and closed the distance between them in two long strides.

"Oh for fuck's sake," Draco growled.

Ron stood immediately. It was more a shift of his weight-- his feet were already on the ground since he was tall enough to actually reach. He opened his mouth, but didn't get a chance to say anything as one more step brought Draco directly into his personal space. His hands came up around the sides of Ron's face, more to keep him still than anything, and didn't stop moving forward even once he'd pushed Ron back against the railing.

"Bzuh?" Ron croaked, and Draco ignored the utter lack of erudition, choosing instead to crush his mouth to Ron's once, forcefully, and then again. He leaned in so hard and so far that Ron was forced to twist his fingers into the front of Draco's shirt to keep from toppling over the side. Flashbulbs went mad around them and though Draco would have happily throttled them all any other time, he couldn't be arsed to care. The sounds that Ron was making in the back of his throat goaded him on, the grip in his shirt, the obvious bulge in his trousers, at exactly the right height and angle such that all it took for Draco to get him to repeat the sounds from his throat with a simple, shallow roll of his hips-- all added up to his perfect willingness to be photographed in the act of doing so. With Ronald Weasley.

Any last shred of doubt was eradicated when he felt a foot hook around his calf, the action not only allowing him closer still, but pulling him in to make use of the available proximity. One of the hands on his chest sought to wrap itself around Draco's waist and down to follow the curve of his spine with total disregard for the public at large, and it was all Draco could do to shove back, grip more tightly; hold on and brace his knee against the railing to keep from falling right over the edge and landing in a tangled heap.

With Ronald Weasley.

The world made no sense. Apparently he had no problem with that.  
  
###

"Right hand red!" shrieked Luna with glee and a pile of partygoers in varying states of intoxication landed in a collectively giggling heap. In an attempt to free himself from Mandy's clinging to his leg, Harry fell face-first onto Neville and laughed as it set off a domino effect and knocked everyone else over again.

"You know what?" said Harry once he was standing, as he tried unsuccessfully to push away yet another incarnation of his mysteriously ever-full glass. "You're right. I'm having fun."

"Again!" said Luna, sparking a hoot of laughter from the crowd as Percy tackled her sideways to a nearby chair and declared her 'under quarantine before she could cause mischief for anyone else'.

'Quarantine' looked suspiciously like a snog.

"Tha's brilliant," said Neville, distracted as he applauded and begged off another game. His eyes suddenly went wide when Harry slipped an arm around him.

"Is." Harry pointed with his drink hand, leaning in too close. "I'm gonna commandeer th' fucking stereo. Come with me."

"As though I'd miss that," said Neville as offhandedly as he could manage, and Harry laughed again, squeezed once and dragged him across the room.

###

The door of the flat banged open so hard, Remus was sure that the thing was about to fall off of its hinges, not that he much cared, given Severus was pinning him to the wall beside it, his mouth hot on Remus' throat, hands heavy and creeping up and under the back of his shirt. He was being inexorably drawn closer and Remus didn't care if it ever stopped. His hand flailed from Severus' shoulder and out to the door that he couldn't quite reach, a whimper escaping his lips as teeth met skin and _gnawed_ ; lord, he could barely _breathe_ much less think.

"S-severus," Remus managed, "We should-- the door," but Severus paid no attention, his hips grinding against Remus and making him see colored stars in his field of vision. Growling, he shifted and rolled, pinning Severus in turn to the wall, shoulder poking over the edge of the doorframe. Without another pause, Remus grabbed Severus by the arms, pulled him away from the wall, moved him far enough over that this was no longer a problem and then slammed him up against it again. Wearing a devious, _wolfish_ grin not two inches from Severus' face, he planted his hands over Severus' shoulders and kicked the door shut.

"Sorted," he panted with a distinctly michievous glint in his eye, sliding a hand up the side of Severus' throat, marvelling at how pliable he was willing to be, how he was willing to let Remus turn his face in order to murmur approval into his skin between nipping kisses to his jaw. "I am _so_ glad you came." Remus dragged his tongue upward toward Severus' ear in order to add in a low murmur, "So, so glad--"

"...Friday..." breathed Severus, not entirely intelligible.

Remus nipped at his earlobe. "What's that?"

The fingers of Severus' hand dug into Remus' shoulderblade and he shifted up and away from the wall before falling back. "Rule-breaking friday--"

"In all fairness," grinned Remus as he nudged Severus back to look at him. "It might be Saturday, now--"

"I don't honestly give a damn," said Severus, freeing a hand and using it to pull Remus into a kiss that threatened to never end and somehow began a migration away from the wall and toward Remus' room.

Hungry and raw and nerve endings on fire, Remus kissed back and seconded the sentiment with no further words.


	10. Saturday Again

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This is the first morning after of the rest of your life. Only less ominous than all that.

**Saturday 2**

It was still dark and though Ginny would be happy never to move again, she had a serious and pressing need that would be messy and just ouside of the realm of her acceptable kinks to deal with where she was. Extricating herself from the sprawl and tangle of limbs that seemed impossible to attribute to only Tonks, Ginny was finally able to press a kiss to a tattooed shoulderblade and crawl from bed unnoticed.

Knowing Remus lived here too, it occurred to Ginny that wandering down the hall starkers might not be the best of ideas, so she pulled Tonks' short dressing gown off of the hook behind the door, shrugged it on and slipped out of the room. The hallway seemed twenty degrees cooler than Tonks' bedroom had been, and Ginny shivered. She crossed her arms more tightly, doing the same with her knees as she finally made her way down one door to the loo only to find it occupied.

Immediate as the situation was, Ginny made a little grr-whimper sound and bounced her foot. As she opened her mouth to hurry Remus, the sound of the toilet flushing changed what was about to have been a loud, 'Hey! There's a queue!' to an 'oh my god thank you' under her breath.

She pushed away from the wall, effortlessly managing the steps of an uncomplicated hopping sort of knees-crossed dance as the tap came on, adding, 'come on, come on' as the doorknob rattled and the door opened.

"Took long enough mate," she said more loudly with an eyeroll. "Swear you're worse than a--"

And then Ginny stopped dead. And would willingly have fallen literally dead as she realized that it was not Remus at all exiting the toilet.

"Weasley, if you wouldn't mind," said Severus, narrowing his eyes and crossing his arms over his chest, a disturbing amount of dungeon-pale leg showing from under a loosely-buttoned shirt, white and therefore clearly not his.

Ginny couldn't help a grimace, using one hand to shield her eyes sidelong as she turned away. "Sorry. Sorry, _so_ not looking." Good god, what was Remus thinking?

"Likewise," Severus said with icy dislike, if not disgust, and squeezed past her. His footsteps receded down the hall and disappeared into the door on the opposite side of the loo.

With a single headshake, Ginny ran in. Three minutes later, more or less, she ran back out, skulked back through Tonks' door and nearly cannonballed back into bed, burrowing against Tonks, face smashed against her shoulder.

"Mmph?" said Tonks, more asleep than awake.

"I'm so, so sorry we left the party. Poor Remus," said Ginny. "Must've really been pissed. Poor _me_. Ugh."

Tonks pushed herself up, brow furrowed and rubbing at her eye as she managed to roll over and face Ginny. Ginny only smashed herself closer.

"Wazzat now?" mumbled Tonks fuzzily, pat-patting Ginny's side.

"Snaaaape," Ginny groaned. "Was in your bathroom. Wearing Remus' shirt."

"Score!" giggled Tonks, her arm tightening around Ginny.

Ginny looked up, alarmed. "What? Shame on you! Remus could do far better than that greasy bastard."

"'S what he wanted," mumbled Tonks. "Good on him."

It was Ginny's turn to shove herself up on an elbow, though she was scowling unconvinced. "He _wanted_ Snape."

"Yep," said Tonks, shrugging and using the opportunity to lean in and nibble at Ginny's throat. "Something about having a sexy voice."

"That-" said Ginny, cut off with a breathy sort of giggle as Tonks' fingers shoved open the dressing gown still barely covering Ginny's frame.

"I know, I know, but you've got to admit," said Tonks, beginning to sound a little more awake and a lot more predatory. "The man has _je ne sais quoi_."

"Nuh-uh," said Ginny, allowing herself to be pushed back down onto the mattress. "I know _quoi_ and just no-- oh! hello there..."

"Hi," said Tonks, slinging her knee over Ginny's hip and pulling herself properly over her. "At least he didn't see you starkers, eh?"

"Stop there," Ginny said, flailing up to slap a hand over Tonks' mouth. "Please."

"Oh," said Tonks, swatting away and pinning Ginny's hand with one of her own, toying with the tie of the dressing gown with the other, and wearing far too gleefully wicked a grin. "I don't think so."

###

Severus was in fact wearing the nearest shirt he'd found that loose, would cover most important parts of his anatomy, as he hadn't seen a dressing gown and couldn't be arsed to care if he was seen and in what state. Of course, that attitude had originated when he had been under the impression that no one else could possibly be awake, and had completely dissipated when he had come face to face with the Weasley girl in a similar state of dishabille.

Not bothering to remove the shirt, he stood unsure at the edge of the bed, shoving his hair back over his shoulder and casting a glance around the room in an effort to locate his clothing in the gloom.

"Come back to bed," murmured the lump under the covers that was Remus, a questing hand reaching out from under said blankets and patting the rumpled sheet. "Still dark. No point in moving."

"I should go--" said Severus, out of place and beginning to feel ridiculous.

"No!" exclaimed Remus, tossing the covers off of his head and sitting up. "No, no," he added more quietly, wincing as he rubbed his temple and slid out of bed a little more slowly. His arms stole around Severus' waist, murmuring into his throat, "Don't go."

As much as his instincts told him to run, Severus stood still, though he did not return the embrace.

"You're welcome to stay as long as you want," added Remus in a sleepy, roughly cajoling voice, nipping at his ear. "I'll make it worth your while."

After a long moment of utter disbelief that he might actually be welcome to stay, and the corresponding shock inherent in the fact that he really, very much wanted to do so, Severus slid his arms around Remus and turned into his kisses.

"Swear that I will not run into any more half-dressed Weasleys, Lupin, and I will consider it."

Remus chuckled into his skin, "I swear," and didn't give Severus a chance to argue further.

###

Hermione practically skipped down the stairs though she was tired, sleepy and a little dehydrated. It was eight o'clock in the morning on a Saturday, yes, and most people were busy sleeping off their drunks (or _on_ them, as the case might be), but Hermione was awake, bright-eyed and humming as she made tea, wet hair braided and knotted at the nape of her neck. The post owl dropped the _Prophet_ onto the table and she shrugged her shoulders once happily, set out her mug and one of the guest mugs before turning any sort of attention to it.

As she unfolded the paper, she loosed a peal of loud, delighted laughter. Hand over her mouth she kept giggling as the little black and white Ron and Draco snogged on the front porch, eventually fell over the railing and didn't stop once they hit the lawn. Every now and then, Ron would flash a rude gesture at the viewer, but his hand unfailingly found its way back to the photographic Draco.

"What's this now?" said a deep voice from behind her as Dean leaned in and set his chin on her shoulder, his hands wrapping around her waist.

Hermione held the paper up for him to see, helpfully tilting her head to give him better access to the side of her neck. " _Someone_ made a spectacle of himself last night."

"Betrayed by Best Mate," read Dean out loud, amusement clear in his voice. "Youngest Weasley brother steals Malfoy out from under Potter's nose at Potter's own party! No word yet on how the BWL's taken this latest blow."

"There's a poor choice of words," Hermione snickered.

Dean turned, nibbled on her ear and breathed, "Heh. _Blow_."

"I would," said Hermione, dropping the paper so she could run a hand up around Dean's neck with a grin. "But you'd be late to work."

"I don't think I'll ever cease being amazed at the levels of depravity to which you will sink, Miss Granger," he said, chuckling as he pressed a kiss to her jaw.

"A good policy in general," said Hermione, turning in his arms to face him. Tugging on the collar of Dean's shirt, she tilted her head at him. "Just how did the rest of the layabouts get the day off, then?"

"They're daddy's favorites?" grinned Dean, wincing when Hermione smacked his shoulder in response. "Alright. I don't have enough seniority that Shacklebolt could have made it look legit. Had to trade in favors to get last night off as it was."

"Favors?" asked Hermione with an arched eyebrow loaded with more than its share of innuendo.

"Favors," he said, bumping her. "As in, conveniently forgetting indiscretions I may or may not have witnessed among the ranks of the senior Aurors and promising to work the post-party shift."

"Bother," sighed Hermione. "Do you have time for tea before you go?"

Genuinely apologetic, he shook his head. "Got to go home and change. That's if Seamus and Lav didn't totally destroy the place last night."

Hermione laughed. "You could have brought your Auror's robes along with you. It might've saved you some time."

It was Dean's turn to laugh and poke her in the side. "Can you imagine for one moment the look on your face if I'd tried?"

###

One eye cracked open and though the heavy drapes were mostly pulled, the room was too bright by far.

It seemed there was also a problem in that his brain was fogged by what was either still alcohol or a hangover that was waiting for him to try and move a muscle before kicking in at full potency. The strangest thing about it, though, had to be the fact that Neville was not in his bed but still mostly dressed.

Wait, no. The strangest thing about it was probably that he was staring at Harry, still passed out no more than a foot away, mouth open and snoring quietly on every other inhale.

Neville pillowed his head on his own elbow and didn't move away.

###

Tea in hand, Hermione waved from the porch as Dean Disapparated from the back garden, waiting to frown at the trash left on the grass until after he was gone. Still, the frown was more perfunctory than anything. With a graceful flourish of her wand, Hermione gathered it into a small whirlwind that built itself up as it moved across the lawn and collapsed neatly upon itself as it reached the lowest step. Satisfied, she turned and headed back into the kitchen, grin back in full force when she caught sight of the person poking at the guest mug she'd left out.

"Err. Granger," said Draco by way of a greeting, cocking his head toward the teapot while wearing a stupid, sated smirk in as he peered out from under a renegade fall of painfully straight, platinum blond hair that he didn't bother to shove away from his eye. "May I?"

"Be my guest," Hermione said and took a sip from her own mug with a knowing grin.

"Don't. I'm well aware of the situation," Draco said, pouring and fixing his tea.

"What?" asked Hermione as she examined him, recognizing the pyjama bottoms immediately.

Draco turned and leaned on the counter. "Your expression bears literal weight. Please desist."

That tore it. Hermione laughed and tapped the tabletop purposefully. "Mine won't be the only one today, I'm afraid."

Eyebrow arched, Draco pushed away from the counter and peered at the paper lying open on the table. "Oh-- that." And then he did something so exceedingly rare that Hermione could probably count on two hands the number of times she'd ever seen it happen. He grinned, hugely, genuinely, his fingertips trailing over the photo. "At least I don't have a bad side. And Weasley doesn't look half bad in that position, does he?"

"Wazzat 'bout me?" mumbled Ron, pushing his way through the door, looking as though he might've been hit by a hurricane or some other force of nature intent on tearing the clothes from his body, mussing his hair beyond recognition, bending him into impossible positions and leaving behind marks to prove it.

###

Neville hadn't intended to disturb Harry, but he didn't have a choice by the time he made the decision to shift carefully and creep away. Fortunately Harry was still asleep when he came back and Neville didn't hesitate in setting the extra hangover potion and glass of water on the side table quietly and slipping back into the bed with as little disturbance as possible.

Still, Harry sniffed and rolled over, patted his own face in his sleep and not finding his glasses on his face, settled for rolling again and throwing his arm over and around Neville.

Neville... well. Neville didn't bother to move. He was lucky he remembered to breathe.

###

Being hit by a force of nature was an apt description for Ron's state, given that's exactly what had happened to him. Not that he was complaining-- oh _no_ ; not at all. There might have been a bit of grumbling when he woke up and the bed was empty and he couldn't find the pyjamas he knew had been thrown over the chair near his bed. His stomach had turned uncomfortably in the moments before he'd seen Draco's clothes and shoes still strewn about the floor, but once he had, went about finding his dressing gown and set off to find him. No luck in the bathroom and voices from downstairs had drawn him to the kitchen, which is how he'd found himself drawn like the proverbial moth to the white-hot flame that was Draco standing with his back to the door and _wearing Ron's pyjama bottoms_ along with his own wrinkled undershirt.

Honestly, there was no competition for his attention as Ron made his way over and slid his hands around Draco, palms flat and crawling up his stomach, mouthing the nape of his neck and murmuring, "Thought you'd gone."

Draco made a 'mrrr'ing sound deep in his chest of the sort that Ron was now well acquainted with, and as such he was unsurprised in the least at the approval registered in parts of his anatomy currently pressed firmly against Draco's arse. To his credit, Draco did not seem the least bit surprised either, turning a heavy-lidded smile over his shoulder and collecting a drawn-out kiss that was cut short by a polite cough from across the table.

Eyes snapping open, Ron left off drawing up the hem of Draco's shirt, swallowed hard and let his gaze finally drag up to see Hermione standing tongue in cheek and not bothering to pretend she hadn't been watching.

"Oh. No. Don't let me interrupt," she said, purposefully pulling a chair out, taking a seat and gesturing toward her throat. "I'll be fine. It's just a tickle."

Ron flushed and tucked his face against Draco's shoulder, actually feeling as though he might laugh until his eyes fell upon the paper. "What's that?!" he said, cutting off whatever it was that Draco had been about to say.

"Photographic evidence of your _heartbreaking betrayal_ ," said Draco with much amusement evident in his voice, tugging on Ron's hand, which had gone rigid around him.

"That--" sputtered Ron. "What?"

"Oh come on," said Draco, pointing to the offending bit of text. "At least you're not a _fickle temptor_. Granger-- is that even a word?"

Swearing under his breath, Ron released him and walked away.

"Weasley?"

Ron stormed out of the room, still muttering as he raked a hand through his hair, shoved the door open with the other and went through. He didn't hear Hermione sigh and offer up a swear of her own, nor did he see Draco hesitate for only a moment, not needing Hermione's nod to decide to follow Ron into the hallway. He _did_ however, notice when Draco grabbed him by the shoulder and spun him around to face him, and he certainly heard when Draco leaned in and growled,"The hell is wrong with you?"

"That?! 'S the front page of the _Prophet_!" Ron _knew_ he was lashing out and probably not even close to coherent, but he couldn't be arsed to stop.

"Good thing you're used to it, then," Draco said, sounding genuinely angry.

"It's not their business! And now--" Ron faltered, throwing a hand out to gesture toward the still-swinging kitchen door. "Now everyone-- that-- the front fucking page for god's sake!"

Draco poked at his stomach. "I can't buy them _all_ off, Weasley, it's going to happen. Man up or--"

"Or what?" sneered Ron just as nastily as Draco ever had.

" _You're_ the sodding mental case, Weasley," said Draco, leaning forward to shout directly into Ron's face. "You know that, don't you?"

"Or what, Malfoy?" said Ron, already wishing he could take it back and running all possible moves through his mind for a good way out.

"Or-" Draco began, but Ron didn't let him finish either as he decided on a course of action. He didn't want to hear what his alternatives were, not after what it had cost to get to where they could argue over being caught in grabby snog by reporters starved for information on Harry's party. He rolled his eyes and reached out to grab Draco's shirt and hauled him unceremoniously to him and kissed him hard. Ron could almost taste the word 'else' that was the last thing to leave Draco's mouth before the whimper that came with Ron's having smashed him up against the wall. Funny how Ron hadn't quite remembered when he'd decided to do so, but he'd done it. He didn't even feel the slightest bit of remorse as he slid his hand up the side of Draco's throat, his fingers digging in wherever they could as though he hadn't traced every available inch of skin there innumerable times the night before. With his tongue.

At any rate, Ron managed to thread his fingers tightly through Draco's hair, spurred on by the hand pressing on his elbow and rubbing aimlessly along his arm, not to mention the other that had wormed into his dressing gown and was raking short nails down already-raw patches of skin along his sides and back.

"Fuck it," breathed Ron at a break in which he realized that his dressing gown had come open, not that any part of his exposed skin was actually exposed in that it was pressed firmly along the length of Draco's body. "They can take as many pictures as they want."

"You're still a bloody mental case," panted Draco, pushing away from the wall.

"So're you," said Ron, who hadn't quite relinquished his hold of Draco's hair.

Another polite cough sounded from the other side of the kitchen door.

"This is such a bad idea," murmured Draco, leaning in to steal a nipping kiss at Ron's throat.

"Fucking stupid is what," Ron answered, nowhere near deterred as he tugged Draco through the room and toward the front stairs.

"You _do_ have a room, Ron." Hermione called through the door.

"Shut up, Hermione," said both Ron and Draco; a phrase which would probably have brought her immediate wrath down upon them, had it been intelligible through the tangle of teeth and tongues in the way. Still, it was likely that she'd understood the intent just fine. Hermione came through the kitchen door, tea in hand and looking up.

"I've got a camera on my mobile, you know," she said, then took a nonchalant sip.

"I hate her some days," grumbled Ron, moving just a little faster. "A lot."

"Funny," Draco grinned and began pulling him up the stairs. "That's what I've been saying for years."

###

This time when Neville woke Harry's eyes were open and watching _him_ , though for the briefest moment he forgot to do anything but smile muzzily. It wasn't until Harry smiled back that he flushed and realized that he should in fact be running away.

"Last night--" Harry said, looking confused, and Neville immediately shook his head and leaned up on an elbow.

"Nothing happened," he said definitively. "It's a little fuzzy after the Twister shots, but I remember it all... mostly."

"No- I mean, I know, but--" said Harry as though he barely believed it himself. "I had... a really great time"

"Yeah?" said Neville, relaxing again even though Harry's arm was still tight around him.

"Yeah. I never..." Harry shut his eyes and his voice was quiet. "A year ago, all I remember thinking was that I probably wouldn't live long enough to do anything besides fight. Every day that goes by--"

Neville was only human. He used the leverage afforded to him by the elbow still half under him to close the distance between them and pressed his lips to Harry's. Apart from the fact that his eyes snapped open, Harry didn't give any other indication of being surprised in the least. In one fluid movement, he used the arm around Neville to draw himself closer and wind one foot around his. Neville couldn't stop to think about what he was doing, offering up no resistance as Harry pressed closer and slid his knee up and over Neville's hip. He breathed Harry in, tasted him through the stale beer and sleep; bloody hell, Neville's hands were scrabbled for purchase in Harry's thin t-shirt, his body sparking hot everywhere Harry's weight settled against him.

Groaning, Harry fisted a handful of Neville's shirt, using the other hand to run his hand up Neville's chest. As far as he was concerned, Neville was probably still asleep, because he'd never quite had such a perfect moment in his life. When Harry finally tore himself away, panting, staring and grinning stupidly, Neville didn't know what to expect. Apparently neither did Harry, if the look on his face was any indication. It must have been the confusion that led Neville to say what he said next.

"I can't watch you _do what you do_ anymore," he murmured, echoing Harry's words from the night before. He bit his lip and added, "I don't want to be one of those people to you."

Neville let his eyes flutter shut when Harry lifted the hand on his chest and ran it through Neville's hair. A shiver ran down his spine and Neville's hands took on a air of urgency as they crept up under Harry's shirt and clutched at his skin.

"Never," murmured Harry, leaning in and nipping at Neville's lower lip, quiet and determined and all raw honesty. "They were never you."

###

The sun was near to setting again from the looks of it and Tonks tumbled out of her room, disheveled and wobbly-legged and calling promises to hurry after herself as she pulled the door shut. She hurried past Remus' room, wearing trousers and a white tank top, hurriedly pulled on if the red brassiere clearly visible underneath was any indication.

After a quick glance into the kitchen made it clear that Remus was the only other person in sight, she slouched in wearing the stupidest of grins.

"Good morning to you," said Remus, flushing even as he made it sound far more filthy than it ought.

"Gooooood morning, Remus John," said Tonks, grabbing his face and kissing him on the cheek. "Heard you had company."

"You did?" said Remus, his head popping up from where he'd been studying the tabletop.

"Yep," Tonks said, unbearably smug as she stuck her head in the refrigerator. "Ginny told me she had a most interesting encounter last night." Her head came up unexpectedly. "Wait. This morning."

Remus laughed again, scrubbing his hand up and around the back of his neck, then immediately wincing again for the fresh mark he disturbed in the process. "Oh. Yes. That."

"Nicely done, old man," said Tonks, handing him a bottle of beer.

"You as well, pup," he said, taking the beer dubiously. "Shouldn't we be seeing to breakfast, or some such?" He pointed to the various menus he'd been examining when she'd walked in. "I was thinking of ordering take away. I don't know that I have it in me to try and do something up myself."

"Mm. What _do_ you have in you, then?" said Tonks with a wickedly filthy smirk as she took a long pull from the cold bottle, reaching around his arm and tugging up the proper menu. "Curry, please."

Snorting a laugh, Remus elbowed her hard. "Wouldn't you like to know?"

"I've got enough of an idea, thanks. I--" Tonks paused as Remus pulled up the menus and exposed the _Prophet_ underneath, and burst into laughter as she read the headline.

"Ah. Young love," breathed Remus in a breathy approximation of a sigh, though he couldn't help laughing too. "Apparently they benefited from your plot by mere association."

" _Our_ plot," said Tonks, who still couldn't stop laughing even after Remus thumped her arm.

"It's not _that_ funny."

"Hell yes it is! Look at that!" she said, coughing as she tried to suppress her chuckles. "Imagine for one moment please my baby cousin's reaction to seeing that today. On the front page. Imagine the look on Ron's?"

Remus paused to look at Tonks and then joined her in the raucous laughter. Though they couldn't quite look at one another for fear of setting each other off again, Remus slung an arm around her shoulders and pressed a kiss to her temple.

"You are bad, bad news," he said with a fond squeeze.

"And you love me for it," she answered, squeezing back before pulling away. She spoke over her shoulder as she made her way down the hall. "Let me find my mobile and we'll order. There needs to be food, and soon."

"No loud distractions, you," he called after her, turning the page of the _Prophet_ after another amused headshake. "Food first."

Tonks was suddenly back and in his face.

"Mate, I am so sorry. I completely forgot to put up an Imperturbable-- was it really that loud out here? Because I know it was d-"

Remus waved it off. "Don't worry about it."

"Oh, no, I know you did, 'cos I didn't hear a sound," she said, biting the inside of her lip. "But I feel like an arse now because the last thing you and Sn- Severus wanted to hear was--"

"I put Imperturbable charms up in your room on Monday. Good, strong, _durable_ ones," said Remus, all smug amusement as he finally flipped the page without looking up.

"You utter dog!" Tonks said, smacking his arm. "Monday?!"

Remus snickered and made a show of fending off further blows. "Monday." Tonks set her hands on her hips and pursed her lips, tongue in cheek.

"Your face is going to stay that way," he said, making a grab for her protruding lower lip and missing when she twirled away and continued on her way back down the hall. "The phone, Nymphadora."

Tonks shot a rude gesture over her shoulder and said wickedly, "Yes, but who needs food when there're Imperturbables on my room that I'd like to test further?"

She disappeared into her room and Remus smiled, making a note of what needed to be ordered but stopping after two words and suddenly looking after Tonks.

"Tonks?"

Quickly, he dropped the pen and jogged down the hallway after her, cursing himself for not owning his own mobile phone.

"You'd better be kidding!" he called out, knocking roughly on her door. "Tonks!"

The door opened just a crack and suddenly there came the sound of not one but two women giggling. A mobile phone popped through the opening and Remus had to scramble to catch it.

"Chicken Tikka Masala for --hee!-- two, pleas--" said Tonks, cut off as the door shut again. Remus stood phone in hand, rolling his eyes and had begun to head back to the kitchen when the door opened again and a small wad of Muggle pounds were next to be shoved through the crack.

"And plenty of --stay!-- Chicken Vindaloo!" said Ginny, cut off by more giggling before the door slammed shut again. Remus watched, grinning, and surely enough, the door opened once again.

Tonks' face and shoulder, now bare but for a loosened bra strap were only visible for a moment as she whispered, "Thank you!"

This time the door was slammed for good.

Remus snorted a laugh, shook his head and finally placed the order as he made his way down the hall to his own room.

"I hope you like--"

The phone went flying, the door was hard against his back, and the lack of ambient sound was deafening as the hands on his hips held him steady and the mouth on his made further words impossible.

In essence, things were finally as they ought to be. And they were bloody brilliant.

 

\--end.

 

...wait, wait:

**Post-credit bonus scene**

_Sunday morning, about a month later..._

Ron jogged down the back stairs of 12 Grimmauld Place, barefoot and whistling a merry tune that spoke of having managed an entire weekend off and the prospect of spending the lion's share of those two days with the annoying Ferret that he couldn't quite get enough of.

He hit a particularly triumphant note as his feet hit the kitchen floor on a hop, only to find Tonks digging through the refrigerator.

"Wotcher, mate!" said Tonks, emerging with a bottle of orange juice. "Sleep well?"

"Hey," said Ron, eyebrow arched. "Running low at your place?"

"Eh," she shrugged, setting the bottle on the counter and reaching up into the cabinet for two glasses. "It's just too quiet. Gin's at camp, Remus is off with Snape and I needed some human interaction." Pausing and looking around, she furrowed her brow and said, "What, no paper?"

"Sadly? No," Ron said with an incongruous grin. "The _Prophet_ delivery owls won't come near the house any more."

Tonks nodded sagely and poured. "Yeah? Why's that?"

Ron looked up and whistled, and not two seconds later, a scary-looking bird swept directly in through the cracked window and came to a swift, silent rest atop the cabinet nearest Ron. "Tonks, meet Rufus. Rufus, Tonks."

"Is that... is that a _Peregrine Falcon_?" said Tonks, mouth sort of hanging open when Ron reached up to pet the bird fondly.

"Yep," Ron said, offhandedly. "Y'know, him and Hedwig get along just fine. But _Prophet_ owls... rub him the wrong way. And the neighborhood has been curiously free of rats as of late."

Tonks snorted a laugh, still staring at the gorgeous and clearly predatorial bird. "Fancy that. You had him trained?"

At that, Ron finally colored and looked down. "He... um. Was a gift. Came that way."

Grinning as she handed Ron a full glass, Tonks mumbled, "I see," before she took a drink from her own.

"Don't," said Ron through a laugh as he snatched the glass away. "I mean it."

He could tell she was going to anyway, or had intended to until the door opened and Justin slouched in, landing in a seat at the table, head in his hands.

"Shoot me, please," he groaned, exposing one eye to be able to see Ron. "I beg you. I can no longer endure this torture."

Ron and Tonks exchanged a look of pure confusion, both muttering, "Huh?" as Justin went on.

"She's killing me. Killing me! I can't bear it!"

"Err--" said Tonks, taking a step closer and patting his shoulder. "Who's killing you, now?"

"Hannah! She's--" Justin dropped his face onto his arms again and mumbled.

"Wazzat?" asked Ron.

"Perfect!" said Justin, still muffled but loud enough to be understood. "She's perfect. Damn her."

Tonks sighed, set her glass of orange juice next to his elbow and patted him a little more forcefully. "There, there, mate."

Justin downed the juice in once long drink as though it were a shot of firewhiskey and slammed the glass back onto the tabletop. "It's no use. She'll only ever see me as her business partner."

Ron and Tonks stood watching Justin groan miserably into his arms for a moment before they exchanged another, more sympathetic glance. Ron shrugged, at a loss until Tonks' eyebrow shot up, a wicked smirk playing at the corner of her mouth.

"Hey," she said, shaking Justin's shoulder. "Have either of you got a birthday or something coming up? 'Cos I've got some party planning experience..."

 

****

END


End file.
